And if she did, she’d tell him.

Not that her age was a big deal. It shouldn’t be, but it could be uncomfortable for him. And there was her daughter to consider. Even if David was all right with the age thing, he may not be able to cope with the fact that Kate had a seventeen-year-old daughter.

For that matter, Kate wondered how her daughter would deal with the fact that her mother had slept with David Burke, the man whose poster hung on her bedroom wall.

*

David settled into the wide seat on the team’s charter. The guys were tired so the lights were dim, and a just smattering of conversation could be heard in the cabin. Players were either reading, listening to music, or settling in to get some sleep. But not him. His shoulder and knee ached, and his mind kept drifting back to Kate. And how after only twenty-four hours, he missed her.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to get her face out of his head. When one image of her faded, another one took its place. He saw her on the deck wiping at her eyes, at dinner listening to him like he really mattered, talking about her work, sleeping after they’d made love. He was trying to remember the last time a woman got inside his head like this. The answer: Never.

He was almost thirty and wondered if it was possible that “the right girl” had finally crossed his path. He looked around the cabin. Most of the guys his age were married, or at least serious about someone. Here he was, still bouncing from one girl to another and winding up in the local gossip pages as often as he was in the sports pages. It sucked.

He’d taken a lot of shit from his teammates when he wouldn’t give up any details of his time with Kate, forcing him to accept losing the bet. He looked to his right. His teammate, Cam Roth, had a smug grin on his face and David knew he was in for it again. He didn’t care.

“What?”

“I owe you this.” Cam extended a folded hundred dollar bill and David waved it off.

“Keep it,” he said.

“Seriously? We all know you won.” Cam tucked the cash back into his wallet. “Did you grow a conscience or something?”

“I don’t feel right about the bet. She’s nice. I like her.”

“I cannot believe you got her in bed. She looked a little on the cool side.”

Chuckling under his breath, David knew Kate was anything but. “Not cool at all. We clicked. But that’s all I’m saying.”

“Come on!” Cam pleaded.

David shook his head and Cam nodded, resigned, as he leaned back into his seat. David thought about where his friend’s life was going. At thirty-seven, his career was winding down. He’d given up his “C” this season, and David had assumed the responsibilities of captain, but his old friend and mentor still drove hard every time he was on the ice. He did the same with women. David wondered if that’s where he was going to be in seven years. Could he ever settle down?

“You okay, Padre?”

“Yeah. She’s just in my head, that’s all.”

“Mind blowing, eh?”

David thought about that. Kate was mind blowing, but not in the way Cam meant it. It was something else. Something intangible. It was in the way she looked at him. The way he felt when he touched her, kissed her. He liked being with her, and it wasn’t just about the sex. He could lose himself in her—in her softness, in her intelligence, in her genuine sweetness. But it was the strength he saw along with the vulnerability, something so powerful it was scaring him shitless, that made David realize this woman, if he let the relationship go any further, would completely own him.

And then there was the book thing.

“Yeah, mind blowing… on a lot of levels.”

Cam raised an eyebrow. “Levels?”

He wasn’t surprised his friend asked the question, but he didn’t know how much he wanted to give up. So, David looked around the cabin for the part of the explanation he could share without sounding like a candy ass. “Hold on,” he said before he called out, “Yo, Graves. Toss me that book.”

Tyler Graves looked at David for a second, then lobbed the book that had been in his lap across the aisle and back a few rows. David grabbed it cleanly from the air and showed it to Cam.

“She wrote this.” David flipped the paperback over and the entire back cover was imprinted with Kate’s gorgeous face.

Cam grabbed the book and looked at the image, then at the cover. “Ho-ly shit. I actually read this.” He looked David square in the eyes. “She’s fuckin’ famous.”

“I know.”

Cam laughed out loud. “Did you get her to autograph your ass, man?”

“You are such a dumb shit.” David grabbed the book and looked at the picture again.

“Hey, chicks ask me to autograph body parts all the time!”

David heard the growl come deep from his throat. This could get complicated, and her fame was only part of it.

And that was what unnerved him; he didn’t need the complications a woman like Kate would bring. She’d want a real relationship. He didn’t need a relationship. He hadn’t been turned down for a date or sex for as long as he could remember—usually he didn’t even have to ask. Most women were more than willing and eager to keep things casual. They’d put on the act, play the games, but they were always available. The current woman in his life made it very clear she was going to sleep with him, and did him following their first dinner together. She was the gorgeous, blonde, twenty-three-year-old daughter of a surgeon. The difference with her was that since he’d been seeing her, and sleeping with her, more regularly than the others, she’d started hinting at making things permanent, and at that moment David realized he had to let her know it wasn’t going to happen.

No doubt, Chelsea would be the perfect trophy wife; she was a hot piece of ass and possessed the common sense of a breast implant. But David didn’t want a trophy. Until Kate, he didn’t think he wanted anything but a warm body. The whole situation made him realize just how far he’d dropped on the personal relationship scale. There had always been plenty of women, lots of great sex, but no one who actually cared about him.

Kate would care. He had no doubt about that. What he didn’t know is if he was up to it. Or if she was interested.

David took his phone from his pocket and typed a quick text. What the hell. He hit send. Home day after tomorrow. Dinner Wed? Piccolo’s in Ardmore. Do you know it?

Within a minute, an answer came back. Yes. Talking to a book group at the library in Haverford. Will be done around 9. Can meet you after.

David smiled. “I’ll be there. Get there when you can.”

Just as they were starting to taxi, he got her response. Can’t wait.

The plane was picking up speed and soon they were airborne. David focused on the lightness he felt as they left the ground. Piccolo’s was BYOB, so that meant he had to get a good bottle of wine. He’d probably get two, a red and a white. Crap. What was happening? He was actually planning a date, and doing more than making reservations, or counting on his fame to get him in someplace. Sticking his phone back in his pocket, he acknowledged Kate was different, and she was going to require some effort.

*

Kate dropped her bags when she entered the laundry room and flipped on the lights. There had been a little blast of cold weather while she’d been away and the house was chilly. She took a quick glance at the basket of mail on the counter to her left, checked to see if the plants needed water… and it was then, when she looked around, that Kate felt the loneliness wash over her.

But it wasn’t the usual loneliness, the kind that screamed at her that she’d been left. This was a new feeling, one that left her more resigned than miserable. One that reminded her it was time to move on.

Right next to the laundry room was the kitchen. Kate took another look at her bags, deciding to leave the largest one in the laundry room since most of the clothes had to be washed anyway. She grabbed the carry-on and headed upstairs. When she reached the first landing, she turned and went to Laura’s room. Opening the door, her daughter’s essence reached out. It was the smell of a seventeen-year-old: denim and deodorant, makeup and perfume. Stepping into the room, Kate reached down and turned on the bedside lamp. There, right in front of her, was David. A large poster hung at the head of Laura’s bed. He was in full hockey gear, a helmet covering his dark hair, but the intensity in his eyes held her. The pads and jersey weren’t there for Kate. All she saw was the man beneath. And as the smells of her daughter faded, the musky, warm scent of David flooded Kate’s mind.