Nancy Warren - Face-Off

“When’s the last time you cried?”

He sucked in a breath. “You don’t want to start with an easy one? Like my astrology sign?”

“Nope.”

Besides, all the easy stuff was on the internet. He was a Taurus, she already knew that. His sign was the bull, which seemed perfect.

He flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling, but kept a hand resting on her thigh so she still felt connected to him, warmed by his touch.

“When my father died,” he finally said.

Her sympathy was immediately aroused. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was so sudden. He was alive and joking last time I saw him, and then boom. He had a massive heart attack and he was gone.” His voice thickened. “I never got to say goodbye. Never got to thank him for teaching me to skate.”

A tear rolled down the side of his face and she felt her own eyes fill.

“Never got to tell him I loved him.”

She kissed him. “He knew,” she said softly. “He knew.”

For a moment they lay there, her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. And for her, he wasn’t a shaving-cream-commercial celebrity or a former NHL heavyweight, he was a man who missed his father. And who could open his heart to a woman.

“So,” he said after a while. “Are we going to lie around blubbering or are we going for round two? “

Her body sparked immediately in response. “I pick round two.”

“That’s my girl.” And he rolled over and kissed her. And let his hands roam all over her as though he couldn’t ever get enough.

“Is there anything in particular I can do for you?” he asked in a low, sexy voice.

“Yes.”

“What’s that?”

She smiled the smile of a woman who is with a great lover.

“Everything.”

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