He took a moment to study her again, slow, deliberate consideration. ‘Completely.’
She decided to push for more. ‘And even though you know the truth, you like the effect anyway?’
The deep breath he drew in seemed to be painful, because he grimaced at the same time. Then he shook his head. ‘It’s false advertising. What happens if you pull one of those rugby boys—how you going to cope when he finds out the truth? Or are you going to offer to cook the chicken fillets for supper after?’
She wrinkled her nose but appreciated the attempt to shoot her down. ‘Not chicken fillets. They’d stink something awful.’
‘What’s in there, then, cotton wool?’
‘Gel pads. Much more comfortable. Natural feeling.’
‘They feel natural?’
She shot a look into the deep, dark eyes that were only a few inches from her own. ‘You want to find out for yourself?’
Oh, the challenge was out now. She could see him thinking, deciding …
‘Roxie …’ He cleared his throat and turned away quickly, went to a cupboard and pushed packets around in it with fierce concentration.
Disappointment burst her fantasy bubble. She looked down at her leg, suddenly the pain that had been muted screamed. She saw how the red was spreading, the swelling thickening.
‘The reaction is getting worse,’ she muttered, biting her lip because her thigh was hot, itchy and sore.
‘It certainly is,’ he answered abruptly, returning from the cupboard, still not looking at her directly. He pierced the seal on the small tube, squeezed some of the white cream onto the tips of his fingers. ‘I’ll give you a couple of antihistamine tablets as well. Have them when you get home—they might make you drowsy.’
She nodded, not able to speak any more. He’d gently spread her legs wider again and with fingers was smoothing the cream across the hot, tight skin. Seemed he’d forgotten he was going to make her do that herself. She looked at him as he watched what he was doing. Now she knew exactly why all those dancers faked injuries to get him to tend them—he was fun. And he truly was gorgeous with his perfect features and height. So very male. So very close. Touching her in a way that suggested other kinds of touch might be even more moving. Her lashes lowered as the tips of his fingers circled carefully, narrowing in on the sting site. She shouldn’t be feeling it so sensually, but she was. She shouldn’t be imagining those fingers gliding higher, but she was. She shouldn’t be heating, melting, wanting—but she was. And she couldn’t help the small shudder as he stroked in that smooth, regular rhythm.
He looked up; his eyes bored into hers. All tease gone and nothing but banked fire in the black eyes. ‘You need to do this yourself.’ Honest, raw—faint sheen sparkled on his skin as if he too felt a fever.
Her throat tightened, rendering her mute. So she nodded. But even that took effort. It was as if he’d some spell cast over her. Her heart wasn’t racing, it was thumping so slowly, and every beat was so huge it hurt. She thought her eardrums were going to burst with the pressure. Both his hands rested on her now, no longer rubbing the cream, but holding her thigh. He could tighten his grip any moment.
If he wanted.
His gaze dropped a couple of inches south of her eyes. She knew what he was thinking about. She was thinking about it too. Wanted it. Her lips tingled, dried, she was desperately trying not to lick them. Suddenly he was closer, so close that—
‘Hey, Gabe, how’s our new girl?’
Gabe moved so fast Roxie didn’t have time to blink before he was at the sink, running taps and scrubbing his hands.
‘You mean me?’ Roxie stared at the vivacious blonder than blonde who’d just burst into the room. Chelsea, the leader of the dance troupe.
‘Yeah, are you okay?’ Chelsea came up close to look at Roxie’s leg. ‘Looks ouch.’
‘It’s okay.’ Seriously, she’d forgotten it in that overpowering moment with his hands on her. ‘Really, I’m … just fine.’ Just breathless.
‘Great. Because up to the bee thing, you blew us away. We want you in.’
‘You do?’ Roxie gaped. ‘Really?’ She’d thought she’d blown it with the whole allergic-reaction-and-screams-of-agony routine.
‘Yeah, you’re classically trained, right?’
‘It was obvious?’ She was stunned; she hadn’t been to a ballet class since she was sixteen.
‘Not in a bad way, but I thought I could spot that underlying technique a couple of times. Your freestyle was amazing and I totally want to raid your moves. I’ve not seen a girl break the way you do. We need some edge and you definitely have it.’
Wow. No one had ever said she had ‘edge’ before. Then again, no one had seen her dance in years. She’d gone into that all but empty stadium today and just given it everything. And she’d done it.
Elation added to the excitement that had already been flooding her. She couldn’t resist glancing at the tall, dark torment now standing a few paces behind Chelsea. But in the split second she looked, she saw the naked emotion on his face.
Anger.
His thunderous expression momentarily crushed her mood. Why did he look so bothered?
‘I’ll leave these pills for you here.’ He brushed past Chelsea and brusquely put a small pill pack on the edge of the table. He left the room faster than a streaker ran the length of the pitch in an international match.
‘Hottest thing on two legs, isn’t he?’ said Chelsea a few seconds after he’d shut the door one decibel short of a slam.
‘I’m sorry?’ Roxie blinked, still absorbing his massive mood swing.
‘Gabe,’ Chelsea explained. ‘Hotter than any of those players. Fit plus brains plus wads of old money.’
‘Really?’ Roxie hoped her suddenly ravenous curiosity wasn’t too obvious.
‘Yeah but don’t bother looking. See how he shot out of here the second he could?’
Roxie just nodded.
Chelsea sighed almost sadly. ‘He used to be so outrageous, dated a different woman every night. Absolute slayer.’
Roxie carefully picked up the tube of cream he’d left on the narrow bed beside her and concentrated extra hard on screwing the cap back on. ‘What changed that?’
‘His ex Diana went crazy for him. Literally crazy.’ Chelsea stepped nearer, her bubbly voice dropping conspiratorially. ‘She was a dancer here, they didn’t even date all that long but she tried to move in on him. I mean, she really did move in one weekend when he was away. It almost got to restraining-order point, but she had a breakdown and her family got her some help.’ Chelsea looked awkward about sharing the info, but she talked on anyway. ‘It wasn’t his fault, she was delusional. Everyone knows he’s never going to put one of these on a girl’s finger.’ Chelsea waggled the fingers of her left hand, and the flash of her massive diamond engagement ring temporarily blinded Roxie. ‘Gabe’s a playboy to the grave. Or he was. Now he’s a repressed playboy.’ Chelsea frowned and fixed Roxie in place with a searching look. ‘When he smiles—too rare these days—all females instantly melt. There’s not a woman in the world who wouldn’t fancy him.’
Roxie knew denial would be too revealing and Chelsea was looking as if she could see straight through her anyway. ‘Well, he is very attractive.’
‘Yeah, but he’s unattainable,’ Chelsea warned. ‘Which makes him all the more attractive
to so many women.’ She half laughed and then instantly sobered. ‘But don’t waste your time. He’s signed off from the game. Look, I’ve been with my man so long the others call me matron, but I still know how it works in this place—you get a bunch of fit guys together with a bunch of fit girls and it’s all going to happen. There are twenty-odd gorgeous young things on that team who’d love to play. So if you want, go for it with one of them, just be sure to play safe.’
Roxie swallowed and stood up from the bed, letting her hair fall forward so the blush in her cheeks wouldn’t be so obvious. Now probably wasn’t the time to admit she’d never played at all—well, not all the way through a game. And she hadn’t looked twice at any of the players—but their doctor? She stepped to get the pills so Chelsea couldn’t see her face as she asked, ‘Why did that girl go so crazy for Gabe?’
‘You’ve got eyes, right?’
‘Yeah, but sometimes good-lookers don’t think they have to make any effort.’ She’d read that in a magazine. She turned to get Chelsea’s answer.
‘Rumour has it his technique is even better than his body. I don’t know the truth of that myself but I’d believe it.’ Chelsea looked worried. ‘Look, so many girls have tried it with him and failed in the last few months since Diana. Save yourself the humiliation—I’ve seen them fall but he rejects harshly and then they resign. I don’t want to lose another dancer, especially one as interesting as you, so please don’t go after him.’
Roxie laughed—she’d never gone after a guy in her life; she wouldn’t know where to start. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
And she didn’t want to jeopardise her spot on the Blades—she’d wanted that for too long. But a part deep inside her flamed because Gabe had wanted to kiss her. She might not be all that experienced but she’d known that. Which meant he wasn’t entirely unattainable. Oh, yes, temptation whispered—tantalising her with the fantasy. She wanted that experience—to finally take a lover and a damn good one. If Gabe was that great, couldn’t he be the one to do it all with? Clearly he didn’t want commitment—none of that lovelorn, clinging stuff. But nor did she. She had no intention of being pulled into a relationship. Her freedom had been a long time in coming and she wasn’t giving it up for anyone.