Cold as Ice (25 page)

D
evin wakes up early the next morning. He hadn't slept as well as he thought he would. He could hear Tracy getting up in the middle of the night, getting water and whatever else his dad needed. She was helping him. The bed wasn't as comfortable as his own, and all he could think about was what he would say to Carla and whether she would accept his apology for overreacting.

Devin said his good-byes and drove home from Seattle. He can't shake Carla from his mind, so he takes his dad's advice and decides to stop at the television station to see Carla face-to-face. It's the only way to figure out what their relationship might hold.

According to her message, she has a lot to tell him, but he needs to tell her something first. It's been weighing on his mind for days. Carla means too much to him; he can't let her slip away so easily. He realizes that now. He can't let her go.

Devin parks in visitor parking and walks into Channel Five, forgetting about security and the many locked doors there are to pass through.

He makes his way to the front desk and is met by a woman with dirty blond hair tied up in a clip and long dangly earrings. Every time she jerks her head from side to side, the earrings sway.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Yes. I'm looking for Carla—” He pauses, not comfortable with using her last name. “Sinclair.” He smiles.

“Is she expecting you?”

“Ah, well, no, but she's been trying to reach me.”

“Are you Devin Miller?” she asks.

He folds his hands to his chest and then releases them, placing his fingers on the counter. “Yes, I am.”

“I was here that day you sent her the fruit bouquet. She loved it!”

“She did, did she?”

“Absolutely! What a nice idea. Original. Better than flowers, I say.”

Devin continues to smile.

“It lasted her two days and she still has the vase on her desk. Of course, there's nothing in it. It's empty.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe she should put flowers in it,” Pamela says, exhaling a breath and clapping her hands together. She stares at Devin. “Carla is out, but she should be back within the hour, I think. If you want, you could leave her a message.”

“That's okay. I'll wait.”

“Wait?”

He nods.

“She might be a while.”

“That's okay.” Devin walks over to the leather chairs. He heads to the corner chair.

“Devin? Devin Miller?”

Devin turns around. He doesn't know anyone else working at the station.

“Wow! I didn't expect you to come here,” Ryan exclaims, hightailing it toward the defenseman. “I told media relations I needed to speak with you. I didn't expect them to make you rush over here so quickly, but hey,” he says, extending his arms, “you must want this interview as much as we do. It says a lot about a player when he opens up about himself. People can relate to you when they know you worked hard through troubled times.”

“What are you talking about?” Devin asks, tilting his head, trying to figure out what this guy is saying.

“The interview. I called Keri from PR to ask her if we,” Ryan points his finger at Devin and then himself, “could do an interview today. Last minute, I know, but you're off today, so I thought it was the best chance. We're putting together player profiles of the team and want you to start things off. I'll be conducting a ninety-second interview with each player.”

“Carla's not doing this?”

“She, uh, no. No. I'm doing it.”

“I'm here to see Carla.”

“How about we go into this room over here,” he says and points to the door across the hall. “We'll be quick. I can ask you a couple of questions and that will be it. Promise.”

“Sorry. It's not my thing,” Devin says, walking toward the front door.

“We're interviewing all the players.”

Devin opens the door and walks outside, ignoring him. He wants to see Carla. Was this why she wanted to see him? Because of an interview? She can forget it. He isn't going to talk about his childhood drama. He's a professional hockey player. He doesn't need to reflect on his past. It's his future he wants to concentrate on, whatever that entails.

He pulls his keys out of his jeans and catches a white Mercedes pulling into the parking lot. He stops and watches to see if it's Carla driving. He can't tell. The car disappears. He has to know if it's her.

He wanders through the parking lot, searching for Carla. His footsteps quicken as he looks around for her car. He's never felt such a need to speak to her. Why can't he let her go? He wants to be with her. He can't seem to shake her out of his mind.

His head perks up when he sees a blond-haired woman bobbing in stride with her footsteps through the parked cars. “Carla!” he shouts, diving into step and jogging toward her. “Carla!”

Her pace slows when she recognizes him. There's an uncertainty about her that makes his heart pound. Will she reject him? Did he hurt her feelings? Will she forgive his actions?

He stops jogging and walks the short distance with determination, focusing on getting to her as quickly as he can. Her eyes are deep blue, sucking him closer with every step. If he could take her into his arms and kiss those taut, peach lips of hers, he would show her how much she means to him.

Carla stops between parked cars, staring at him as though wondering what he's doing there.

With only a few more steps until he reaches her, he says, “I came by to see you. . . .” His words feel stuck in his throat as he stands in front of her, taking in her cautious eyes and the free-flowing hair that covers her shoulders.

She doesn't say anything.

“You . . . you needed to speak to me.”

“So you drove here?” Her eyebrows furrow.

“Calling didn't seem like an option.”

She pulls her purse strap over her shoulder and keeps her hand there. “Oh, no? You could have called. It would have given you the option of hanging up on me if you didn't like what I had to say.”

“Now you're making me feel bad.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. I'm sorry. I know what you did was because you were trying to help.”

“I did it because I care,” she says, her hand slipping down the purse strap to her hip. “I thought what I was doing would help you and your dad come together.”

“Carla!” a voice yells, pausing the conversation. The two of them turn around to see the man running toward them.

“Carla! Devin!” He speed walks. “Wait! Devin! I have the room ready for the interview.”

“You're interviewing Devin?” Carla asks.

“I'm not—”

“Yes! Russ wants me to, and Devin's here,” he says, talking with his hands. “So why not?”

“What gives you the right to tell me who I'm talking to?” Devin wants to know. “I'm not doing any interview.”

“Carla, tell him!”

Devin looks at her.

She tilts her head. “Tell him what?”

“That you're interviewing him.”

“I'm not,” she says, shaking her head.

“Isn't that why he's here?”

Devin looks at Carla. “Actually, I have something to talk to Carla about.”

“Oh.” He takes a step back. He smacks his hands together down low. “I see. It has nothing to do with Channel Five?”

“No,” Devin tells Ryan. “It's personal.”

“Your job is on the line, I thought.”

Carla purses her lips and takes a deep breath. “Apparently.”

“You're going to get fired if you don't interview me?” Devin asks. “What kind of business is this?”

“It's my job,” Carla says.

“Do you want to interview me?” Devin asks, searching those blue eyes of hers for something bigger. Maybe that's what was on her mind. “Is that what you want?”

“Not now,” she says.

“What's going to happen about your job?” Devin asks.

“Russ won't like it,” Ryan says.

“I don't care,” Carla says.

“Do you mean that?” Devin asks. “I don't want you to lose your job. Not over me.”

“I won't. And if I do,” she says, looking at the pavement and then up at Devin, “it's worth it. I don't want to come between you and your dad.” She stops and looks at the man.

“I can do a quick interview,” he says. “Or Carla can . . .”

She shakes her head. “I'm not.”

“You're going to risk your job?” Ryan begins to walk backward.

“I have nothing to ask him,” she says, staring into Devin's eyes.

“All right,” the junior reporter says, making distance between them. He turns around and walks away.

“Are you really going to lose your job?” Devin asks.

“I don't know.”

“Is that what they told you, you'd lose your job?” Devin stands with his hands on his hips.

“Not in so many words, but yeah.”

“Do you want to interview me?”

“You don't want me to,” she says, her eyes squinting.

“If it's going to cost you your job, I will.”

“You don't want to talk about your personal life and that's what Russ wants me to do. It's none of anybody's business.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No. It's no use.”

“It won't change his mind?”

“I don't think so.” She shakes her head.

“Interview me.”

“But you don't want me to ask—”

“I have nothing to hide. My dad doesn't either.”

“But I thought—”

“It's all good between him and me.”

She tilts her head.

“I was there, in Seattle, to see him. He's sick,” Devin says, swallowing hard.

“Is he okay?”

Her concern relaxes him. He grins. “I think so. I'm going to help him get the care he needs. It's his liver. From all the years of drinking alcohol, there's scar tissue on his liver. We'll know soon what his outcome will be, but I think he's going to be fine.”

“That's good.” She blinks and her lips comes together. “How do you feel?”

Devin stares blankly at her.
How do I feel?
He hasn't been asked that before by a woman. His heart swells. Looking into her eyes, he answers, “Relieved. I have a dad I didn't know because I didn't want to. I had a drawer full of unopened letters I kept for years. I finally read every one.” Devin skims his hand across his forehead. “It was tough. A lot of things I didn't know about him and the struggles he went through. I wish I could have helped him . . . let him know he had me, had a son. I was too ashamed to face what I didn't have that I almost gave up what I did have. I made a poor decision not to know my dad when all I wanted was him. So, thank you for getting involved. Without you, I wouldn't have been in touch with my dad. It's been a long time coming and, to tell you the truth, the weight has lifted.”

“I couldn't imagine not knowing my dad or mom, and to live all those years unknowing resonated with me.” She looks at the pavement and then up to meet his eyes. “I care about you. Hard for you to believe, I know, but I do.” She ends with a lightness in her voice, as though she can't quite believe it herself. “I really do.” Her eyes are searching his for reassurance. “I don't care that you play hockey, what I care about is who you are. I didn't think I'd fall for you. . . . I guess I did the first time we met.” Her cheeks flush. “As dumb as that may sound.”

“I haven't stopped thinking of you since.” He looks away to gather his thoughts and then returns to her with desperation. “I need you. I really do.” He presses his lips together, watching her eyes gloss over. “I want a life with you. I like you too much to let you go.”

She wipes a tear from her eye.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “You're the last person I'd want to hurt. I'm sorry if I came across cold and isolated. I never share my feelings with anyone, and you seem to read me like an open book.”

She gives him a sideways grin.

“Must be the reporter in you.” Devin's smile turns serious. “Will you forgive me?”

She nods.

Devin reaches out his hand and pulls her into his chest. “I want my life to be fulfilling. I want to do something with it.”

“But you have!”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I want meaning . . . I want to do something more than be known for being a hockey player.” He rubs her back. “I've been thinking a lot about different things. I want to start a foundation to help men get back on their feet and be with their families. Provide help for them. I don't know . . . do something. There must be something I can do.”

“I believe you will. That's an excellent idea.” She smiles, pressing her hand firmly on his hip. “I think you'll accomplish anything you set your mind to. That's why you're playing professional hockey.”

He smiles at her.

“You're not as cold as you make people believe you are,” she says with a wink.

“I've never been much of a talker.”

“I don't know why. You have a lot to say.”

“Only to you.” He holds her tight. “I don't know how that happened.”

“I'm glad you feel that way,” she says.

“Carla, I feel a lot with you. My life hasn't been the same since I moved to Vancouver. I want you in it.” Devin lifts her chin and brings her lips to his. “I want you; I want us. I don't want to live life passing me by and not do anything about it. I want to start right now. You and me, together,” he says, firming his hand around her back. “You mean too much to me to let you go.”