MAYBE THIS LOVE
Series: Colorado Ice #2
By Jennifer Snow
ABOUT THE BOOK:
THE GAME OF HIS LIFEHockey player Ben Westmore has some serious skills---on and off the ice---and he's not above indulging in the many perks of NHL stardom. When a night in Vegas ends in disaster, he realizes two things: 1) it's time to lie low for a while, and 2) he needs a lawyer---fast. But the smoking-hot woman who walks into his office immediately tests all his good intentions.
Olivia Davis doesn't need anyone derailing her career---or her dreams of starting a family---least of all a skirt-chasing player like Ben. But soon he's unleashing a full-court press to convince her that he's the real deal. She's slowly falling for his sweet, rugged charm, but with so much on the line, Olivia has to decide whether Ben can truly change---or if he's just playing the game.
On Sale: May 30, 2017
Publisher: Forever
Formats: Mass Market
Price: $7.99 (mass market)
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“Relax,” he said smoothly, his gaze locked on hers, his expression
soft, unfazed—the look of a man not dancing with the lawyer who could ruin his
life or at least playoff season. She had to learn this guy’s secret, because
there was no way he was this unaffected. Yet, his hands weren’t sweating the
ways hers threatened to, and the only heartbeat she could hear thundering was
her own.
She forced a slow and what she hoped was unobvious breath. “I am relaxed. I’m not the one who should
be worried.”
The palm of his hand spread across the exposed flesh of her back
and she prayed the tingling sensation in her spine didn’t result in goose bumps.
“So you’re saying I should be?” he
asked, turning them in rotation to the steady beat. Despite her resistance to
this dance, her hips betrayed her by swaying in sync with his, and her feet
kept time with his every step. He led with a silent authority that she was
forced to follow. And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t hating giving
up control.
“I think so, yes. My client is…”
He brought their joined hands between them and placed a finger to
her lips.
Her heart all but stopped.
“Why don’t we save the shop talk for the courtroom? Let’s just
enjoy this dance.”
She swallowed hard, but nodded. Dancing in silence, she could do
that.
Unfortunately, Ben seemed eager to chat. “How long have you been
practicing law?”
He expected her to remember stats as his hand on her back dipped
slightly lower, his hold drawing her even closer? It had been far too long
since she’d been enveloped in the arms of a man who felt and smelled so strong,
so confident…How long would it be again if she went ahead with her plans for a
baby? She pushed the thought aside when he stared at her, still waiting for an
answer. “Twelve years,” she said, cutting out her time as a junior lawyer and
intern, so as not to age herself. She knew from his online Wikipedia page that
he was thirty-four, two years younger than she.
“Do you love what you do?” he asked.
“If I say no will I get the inspirational ‘do what you love and it
will never feel like work’ speech?”
“Is that a no?”
She shook her head. “Actually, I really do enjoy my job.” She couldn’t
say watching families get ripped apart by bitter divorces was something she
loved without sounding like a sociopath, but she enjoyed her career.
“Can I ask why only professional athlete divorces?”
“I was dumped by a jock,” she said.
Ben laughed. “So one guy ruined it for us all, huh?”
She nodded then shook her head. “No. Everyday cases—with normal,
everyday husbands and wives—just seemed a little too…real,” she said.
His blue eyes burned into her and his grip tightened on her hand.
“So, guys like me aren’t real?”
She swallowed hard. He felt real…He felt more than real—he felt
amazing. His arm wrapped around her felt deceivingly safe and his hand holding
hers felt warm and secure. God, she could see herself giving in to these
painfully real feelings…“You’re probably one of the more real ones,” she said,
hoping he didn’t detect the slight quiver in her voice.
He nodded slowly as though unsure whether her words were a
compliment. “Have you ever been married?” he asked, rotating them in time to
the music.
“That’s crossing a line into personal.”
“Kids?”
“That’s less personal?” She raised an eyebrow.
He smiled. “Guarded much?”
The effect of his smile from a safe distance was knee-weakening.
This close, it was downright dangerous. She quickly averted her gaze to the
other couples on the floor. “How long is this song anyway?” She felt trapped
the way she had in tenth grade when Robbie Gropes-a-Lot Harris had tricked her
into dancing with him at the winter formal to “November Rain”—the full
eleven-minute extended version. Except Ben’s breath smelled minty fresh and not
like tacos, and his arm draped across her lower back made every fiber in her
being spring to life, making her want to flee for a completely different reason
than the one Robbie had evoked.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?”
Damn right. And it should be her
making him uncomfortable. There
needed to be a power shift between them and fast. “Of course not.”
He pulled her closer. “You make me uncomfortable,” he murmured, his
expression suddenly serious. Every inch of her body was pressed to his and she
could barely catch a breath. Dancing was a really bad idea—a torturously bad
idea. Being in his arms reminded her of all of the things she’d sacrificed for
her career, of all the things she’d told herself she didn’t need…
“G-good,” she said, her voice cracking. “As I said, my client…”
“I don’t mean the divorce case. I mean you.” He touched her cheek
and her skin burned. Thank God he was holding her so tightly because she
couldn’t trust her legs.
Their stare locked and held for what could have been a lifetime, as
everything seemed still and quiet around them.
Still and quiet.
The song had ended.
She yanked her hand free of his and stumbled away from him,
inhaling a gulp of air into her deprived lungs. “Well, dance is over.
I’ll…uh…see you.”
He nodded, the charming polite smile back on his face and for a
second she wondered if she’d imagined the intensity in his gaze seconds before.
“Goodnight, Olivia.”
Olivia.
Her own name sounded foreign coming from him. She longed to hear
the sound again, and she was an idiot for wanting something so dangerous. The
NHL’s biggest playboy had just worked his charm on her, and she’d lost all
common sense.
She turned and headed straight for the table, leaving him on the
dance floor.
She had to pull it together, but she also had to admit the
unfortunate truth. Never before had she been tempted to kiss the enemy.
COLORADE ICE SERIES
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