Page 31 of Hat Trick

“Finish yourstory.”

I moan, not from lust but out of frustration. “I did what I set out to do when Walter hired me—I made myself irreplaceable. The company could come crashing down, but I’d come out on the other side unharmed. It was the first time in my entire life that I had the chance to be judged by my own merits and not my mother’s, and there was no way I was going to let an opportunity like that slip away. And then, once my position was secure, I set about makingchanges.”

“Likewhat?”

I glance up, momentarily distracted by the sight of my fingers playing with his hair.Myfingers.Hishair. Crazy. “I took on female clients, as many professional women as I could, no matter their field. Today, we’re closer than ever to an equal playing field at Golden Lights. It’s not perfect, not nearly as evenly balanced as I’d like it to be, but it’ll get there. When I started, the figures sat at a nine-to-one ratio. Now, that number is closer to six-to-four. Perfect? No, not nearly, notyet.”

Silence.

Pure, unforgivingsilence.

I feel the heat prickling my already chilled ears, and my nose grows itchy with the need to laughawkwardly.

I should have known. Really, I shouldhave.

Why would Marshall, a pro-hockey player with endless opportunities at his fingertips, be impressed with what I’d accomplished? Never mind that; why would a guy of his caliber even careabout—

“You’re a damn intriguing contradiction,honey.”

I nearly choke on my own spit, I’m so shocked. “What do youmean?”

“You.” He shakes his head, and my hand falls to his shoulder, my thumb brushing the collar of his sweatshirt. “You show the world this icy exterior, this wall that no one but a very select few can breech, and then you blow everyone’s perception of you out of the water by admitting to something likethat.”

My breath hitches.Don’t ask what you’re thinking, don’t do it.I do it. “Everyone’s perception, Marshall? Or also yourperception?”

He slows us to astop.

Wanting space, I try to pullaway.

His hands lock around my elbows, and his hard voice leaves me no choice but to meet his intense expression. “That’s an unfair question and you know it. You’ve spent years pushing me away, Gwen. That ice you wear for everyone was a foot thick around me. So, yeah, I’msurprised.”

He’s right, damnhim.

But just because I agree with him doesn’t lessen the sting. “Then why chase me? Maybe I have my own reasons for pulling away, but why bother asking me out if you think I’m such a coldheartedbitch?”

“Because I don’t. I neverdid.”

I risk a peek up at hisface.

Earnest, is my first thought. He looks so damned earnest as he watches me with narrowed grayeyes.

“I don’tunderstand.”

He blows out a deep breath. “You never noticed, but I took part in the same community service program that you did, back atNortheastern.”

It suddenly feels hard to breathe. “You . . .followedmethere?”

“Trust me, the truth isn’t stalkerish at all.” Massive shoulders lift in a nonchalant shrug. “Volunteering was mandatory if I wanted to stay on the hockey team. Most of the guys chose the soup kitchen. Others went for building houses. I chose something a little closer tohome.”

For a moment, the words escape me. All ofthem.

The only option is to stare at Marshall’s handsome face, tracing his familiar features. Features I’ve seen on and off for six years but am only now letting myself memorize. The holiday lights above us go dark, no doubt the attendant alerting everyone that they’re closing up shop for thenight.

We’ll have to return our skates and hope that our shoes haven’t beenstolen.

But my blades are rooted to the ice, my gaze rooted on Marshall’sface.

“You chose to volunteer at a shelter for abused and battered women.” The words come out slow, purposely even to conceal mysurprise.

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