Free Razors Ice 04 - Hot Ice by Rachelle Vaughn Page A

could work up a sweat. Most of them involved being horizontal in a bedroom.
    She shook her head to chase the errant thought away and answered him. “No, I don’t mind at all. That would give me time to get everything set up.”
    Violet watched him disappear down the hall and stopped herself from following him. She wondered what his bedroom looked like and what his shower looked like and more importantly what he looked like inside the shower. She could faintly hear the shower turn on and imagined him stepping into it, sweaty and naked.
    She took a deep, calming breath and focused on the task at hand. She set up her massage table near the fireplace, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake. It was the perfect setting for a relaxing massage.
    When everything was in place, Violet noticed the wall of framed photos near the hall and went over to admire them. Jace’s entire hockey career hung there, suspended in time. There were team photos, newspaper clippings, and even a framed draft jersey. The row of photos captured the moment when he won the Division Championship, Jace as two-time Sir Smythe Trophy winner and a young Jace when he was drafted into the league as a fourth-round draft pick.
    In the middle, framed in gold, was a team photo of the Ontario Thunder after they won the Gordie Prince Cup. Next to that was a snapshot of Jace holding and kissing the Cup, the magical chalice that every hockey player chased and dreamed of hoisting above their head in a victory lap around the ice.
    Violet’s chest tightened. It was a beautiful moment captured on film. The culmination of hard work, talent and loads of determination. She could only imagine what it must have been like to win the Cup in front of thousands of adoring fans. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear the roar of the crowd and the voices of Jace’s teammates congratulating each other. What would it be like to know such pure untainted success?
    She opened her eyes and wondered if Jace’s shoulder would hold out for him to win the Cup again. This time in Red Valley.
    Probably not, she thought sadly. The Razors rarely eve r made it into the playoffs and whether he wanted to admit it or not, his injuries were catching up to him.
    Suddenly, t he sound of running water turned off in the bathroom. Violet stood still, rooted to the wood floor and imagined Jace toweling off. Without even bothering to reign in her naughty imagination, she imagined fluffy white cotton scraping over his body, absorbing every last drop of moisture from his skin.
    A minute later, he came down the hall and stood behind her. She didn’t move away or turn to look at him and could smell his clean, fresh scent.
    “I was just admiring your career,” she said, looking at his reflection in the glass of one of the frames.
    “It’s been quite a ride.” His voice was low and husky like they were having an intimate conversation and not one about his hockey career.
    She could feel his breath hot on her neck and could smell the soap on his skin. “I remember this.” She ran her finger along the wooden frame. “You played for the Ontario Thunder when you won the Cup. I remember watching the game on TV with my brothers.”
    “It was the greatest day of my life.” He exhaled and once again his breath tickled her neck. “We battled for it all season long and when we finally won it…it was surreal. When I lifted the Cup over my head it was as light as a feather.”
    She turned around because she didn’t want to miss the emotion in those blue eyes when he spoke about his passion. He was wearing only a towel slung low on his hips. His black hair was wet and slicked back. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t. He was so close that she could see tiny droplets of water on his shoulder that the towel had missed. She bit down on her tongue to stop from leaning forward and licking them off.
    “I’ll never forget th at feeling,” he said.
    “ I can’t imagine. We were so happy to see