was long and lean with red hair that flowed like molten lava.
A man’s hand played casually with the strings. A broad hand. It was teasing, bordering on erotic, and Olivia suddenly became aware she was staring.
Just as she was about to tear her gaze away, the man stepped out of the shadows.
Anders.
Goddamn, if her heart didn’t splinter. She felt the pain as if he’d reached into her chest and squeezed the damn thing. He was just as handsome as she remembered. And the pair looked like the golden couple, the kind of couple she saw on the front page of a celebrity magazine when she waited in line to pay at the grocery store.
Her movements stopped, and she realized she was standing on the dance floor like a statue.
Move, Liv.
As if he heard her, he chose that moment to look over the dance floor, his eyes finding hers. The flashing lights of the nightclub made it hard to read his response, but she didn’t want to wait around to find out anyway.
She spun and grabbed Natalie. While playing it cool seemed impossible, she needed to try. At least until she could catch some air.
“What’s up?” Natalie said, leaning closer so she could hear.
“I’m just going to the restroom, and I’ll grab us a drink on the way back. What would you like?”
“Vodka tonic, please.”
Olivia fought her way through the tightly pressed bodies, and it was almost impossible to move, especially as the DJ took that moment to play a popular current hit. When she finally stepped off the dance floor, she took a breath and followed the sign toward the bathroom. A few more steps and she could compose herself, not that it would matter. Anders was clearly busy upstairs with a woman who was way more in his league than she was.
“Hey, Olivia.” Anders’s voice carried toward her. She heard the gasp in his breath; he’d obviously raced to reach her.
She could pretend she didn’t hear. Suddenly exhausted, she wasn’t ready to see him or talk to him.
“Olivia.” A hand reached for hers and she slipped her fingers from his grasp.
Shit. It’ll be okay, Liv. Just talk to him.
As she turned, she prayed she could trust her gut.
“Goddamn, Olivia. Wait.”
Anders needed to explain. Apologize. Fuck, he didn’t know what he needed to do. How could he explain the complex feeling in his gut that she’d be his kryptonite?
His team had won tonight, a crucial game that finally pulled them ahead of the pack. It had been an ugly, dragged out fight. In the last four days, he’d shifted state, team, home, and job. He’d played two games. The first he’d had minimum impact in, the second he’d made more of an impression with a play that had led to a goal. The press had loved that and was debating the larger impact he could have in the league, and how he had the goods to help Denver make the playoffs.
But all thoughts of the success went out of the window when he’d seen Olivia’s face look up at him from the dance floor. Since his return, he’d compartmentalized her, locked her in a box not to be opened. She was his fucking Pandora’s box.
He’d followed her down the club’s dark corridor that led toward the bathrooms. Reaching for her had been easy. Dealing with her snatching her hand away was something altogether different.
Olivia stopped but didn’t immediately turn around. He saw her shoulders straighten and her ribs expand as she took a deep breath, before she turned to face him.
“Hey, Anders,” she said, her voice too smooth. “Welcome back.”
Her smile was fake and he missed the real emotions and vulnerability she’d shared on Christmas Eve. The way she’d put her trust in him, the way she handed over her body to his care, had cranked him up so fucking high. Right now, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“Oh, good. Fine. You?”
“I got traded to Denver.”
Her eyes flashed wide, the first genuine response he’d seen from her. It probably meant he was a heartless dick enjoying her reaction, even though there was nothing he could do about it.
“Congratulations. You’ve obviously settled in easily enough.” She glanced in the direction of the balcony.
Karl’s wife had brought her friend Sophie with her as a setup. A rocking body and meaningless conversation had seemed the perfect way to spend the evening celebrating his performance on the ice. And, fuck, he needed somewhere to put the