Hot Puck (Rough Riders Hockey 2)

And Kennedy certainly wasn’t that. In fact, Beckett couldn’t even imagine her dolled up. Yet, he couldn’t stop looking at her. He’d just gone too long between hookups. This year had been brutal on his extracurricular activity.

“I don’t feel anything obvious,” she said, dropping back to a seat and scribbling notes on a clipboard.

“Then you weren’t touching the right place.”

She smirked but didn’t look up.

“Do you think we could lose the strap on my arms?”

Her gaze rose to his, narrowed.

“There’s no point in me causing trouble,” he assured her. “The game’s almost over by now, right?”

She reached out and freed the buckle holding the strap across his upper body. Beckett sighed and repositioned his arms. “Thank you.”

She reached out and slipped two fingers into his hand. “Squeeze.”

He’d barely gotten started when she said, “That’s good,” and moved on to the other. Then jotted more notes.

“Is Kennedy a first or last name? You never answered.”

“Last.” She stood again, set her clipboard down, and rounded the foot of the gurney, where she started unlacing his skates.

“If you’re gonna undress me, you can start up here.”

She grinned at him, her head tilted, her gaze flirty and hot around the edges. “I like to take my time.”

“And I like the sound of that.”

When she tugged off a skate, Beckett’s mind refocused. “Hey, can you make sure my skates stay with me?”

A more authentic smile curled her lips, making Beckett’s focus cling to them. To their pretty shape. Their plumpness. The dip in her upper lip. “You sound like my last patient, only he was six, and he wanted his blanket.”

“So you’d be nicer to me if I was six?”

“I am being nice, and somehow I think a big part of you still is six.”

He laughed and watched her hands move on his laces. The sight created a strange tug in his belly. He couldn’t remember anyone ever lacing or unlacing his skates for him. “They’re my favorite pair.”

She pulled off one skate and set it on the gurney beside his leg, then met his gaze—the first time she’d looked at him without a flare of anger darkening her expression. Her eyes were a warm bluish green. “How many pairs do you have?”

“Um…” He had to think about that. “I’m not sure. More than the other guys. Five? Six? I like to keep them. I’m sentimental like that.”

“Eight,” Gabe said. “I read it in Sports Illustrated, so it has to be true, right?”

Kennedy met Beckett’s gaze, and they started laughing at the same time. Her face glowed and her eyes sparkled. Oh yeah, she was a beauty all right. And they shared a moment of intimacy that dug in and held on to something inside Beckett. One he really wanted to explore.

Preferably in bed.

Kennedy placed her hand on the ball of his foot. “Push.”

After he obeyed, she repeated the movement with the other foot, then pulled his skates into her lap while she made notes. When she finished, she tucked the laces inside the skates and asked, “What makes these your favorite?”

He would have glanced toward the cab but couldn’t move his head, so he slid his eyes that direction. “Do you know, Gabe?”

“Nope. You’ve got me there.”

He met Kennedy’s eyes again and could see by her softened posture and easy grin he was slowly gaining her approval. “I was wearing them when I scored my two hundredth goal in the NHL. I also have the ones I was wearing when I scored my hundredth and my first.”