"What?"
"When guys are playing hockey, and they stop on a dime." Her voice picked up steam. "And the ice goes flying. It'ssocool."
I gave her a teasing glance. "So you think I'm cool, huh?"
"I never said that," she laughed. "And besides for all I know, you can't even do the stopping thing."
"Everyonecan do the 'stopping thing'," I told her. "You don't make the team if you can't. Hell, I betyoucan do it."
"Yeah, but it's never as dramatic," she said. "Maybe I just don't have the bulk behind it or something."
From whatI'dseen, she had the perfect amount of bulk – full hips and ample curves, the kind that could get a guy thinking if he wasn't careful.
Already, we'd reached the other side of the rink and were rounding the corner to face the other direction. On impulse, I said, "Race ya to the other side."
"You're on!" She took off like a rocket, and I followed after her, working like hell not to ogle her backside as she raced to the opposite side of the rink where, instead of making the turn, she twisted her body sideways and stopped hockey-style like a real pro.
A few seconds behind her, I did the same thing, turning sideways to send the ice flying.
"See?" she laughed. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. You get all this cool misty ice, and I get nothin'."
"It wasn't nothing," I said. "I saw plenty of mist from you, too."
"Hah! Liar." Her eyes narrowed. "And you totally let me win."
"How doyouknow?" I asked.
"Oh, come on," she said. "You're at least eight inches taller than I am.Andyou used to play hockey. There's no way I really won."
"Maybe I didn'twantto win."
"Why not?"
"Maybe I wanted to watch."
"Watch what?" She gave me a funny look. "Me?"
Sometime within the past few minutes, it had begun to snow – not heavy snow, but little flakes that drifted downward, sparkling in the overhead light. With a smile, I said, "Damn straight."
"But why?"
My gaze locked on hers. "You've gotta ask?"
Her lips parted, and she gazed up at me as if she wanted to say something. But she remained silent, and so did I.
I wanted to kiss her.And the way it looked, shewantedto be kissed.
But that didn't mean I wouldn't be slugged if I tried it.This wasn't even a date.
And no matter whatIwanted, I refused to bethatguy, the one who comes on too strong and too fast without putting some effort into it. But Ihadto say what I was thinking. "You're beautiful. You know that?"
Her mouth closed, and her expression cooled several degrees. "No, I'm not."
I stared down at her. "You're so full of it."
"No,you'refull of it," she said. "And just so you know, you don't have to flatter me. Yeah, I'm cute, I guess. But I’m hardly beautiful."
This girl was nuts. "Wanna bet?"
