A pair of toothless goons on skates crashed into the boards, filling the air with chips of ice and grunts of pain.
Tyler McHale usually enjoyed the hell out of a good, hard check, but the pen he'd picked up from the floor held more interest for him than watching the ice-hockey game. "Excuse me," he said to the intriguing brunette in the seat next to him, "you dropped this."
He gave her his best smile, the one that had beamed out from the cover of Sports Illustrated last week. She glanced his way only long enough to snatch the pen from him. "Thanks," she murmured and went back to talking to the friend on the other side of her.
Tyler went to scratch his head but encountered the hat with which he'd covered his dark-gold hair precisely so nobody would notice him.
"So then fifteen minutes before the concert's due to start, he calls and says he has to work late."
Tyler strained to hear what she was saying. Her low-pitched voice was as sexy as the rest of her. He especially liked the cute little bump that lent her nose character, the luscious cascade of her dark hair and her bare ring finger. Now if only he could get her to look directly at him so he could get a frontal view.
"And then he asks if I'd had a chance to pick up his dry cleaning," she continued. "I'm starting to think he doesn't appreciate me, and I don't know what to do about it."
"Dump the idiot," Tyler advised aloud.
The cheer that rose from the crowd swallowed his words. On the ice, the Pittsburgh Penguins goalkeeper was flat on his belly. The puck, Tyler assumed, was under him. The tiny blonde on the other side of the brunette leapt to her feet and pumped her fist. When she sat back down, she turned back to her friend. Tyler leaned over, trying to hear her response.
His cousin Barry's bony elbow dug into his side. Jeez, the guy needed to gain some weight. The robes he wore as a Catholic priest conveniently masked that fact, but tonight he was in civilian clothes. Barry gestured behind them with a jerk of his skinny thumb.
Tyler turned to see a tow-headed kid holding out a program and a pen. He grabbed both, scribbled his name and handed them back so he could refocus on the brunette. She smelled good. He couldn't identify the scent but it was something light and breezy that went straight to his head.
He'd been listening to her for most of the game. She worked for a successful business that helped clients maximize human energy, but her boss didn't appreciate her any more than her boyfriend. She should know she was sitting next to someone who would.
"Excuse me," he said. No response. He tapped her shoulder. She held up her index finger as she continued to talk to her friend. Thirty seconds later, her hand dropped into her lap. She still hadn't looked at him.
Tyler set his mouth as he considered how to solve a problem he'd never faced. That's when he spotted the cameraman in the aisle of their section, scanning the crowd. Tyler had been to enough hockey games to know what would come next.
He got up, making everybody in the aisle move so he could get by. He had a favor to ask of the cameraman. When he got it, the brunette couldn't help but notice him.
A roar vibrated through Mellon Arena, a strange mix of cheers undercut by some definite boos. Kelly stopped talking and scanned the ice, searching for a player who might have done something to deserve both the crowd's love and its wrath.
She wasn't entirely up on the rules of hockey but she knew enough to get by. The career-development firm where she was an office manager sometimes gave tickets to employees when they couldn't bestow them on prospective clients, and she had an excellent view of the rink from her tenth-row seat.
Two opposing players were at one of the face-off circles, waiting for the referee to drop the puck. The ref waited for the red light that would indicate when the television commercial break was over and action could resume. The murmuring, however, had gotten louder.
"Kelly, look!" Andrea Cristello, the co-worker and friend who'd talked her into coming to the game, pointed to the giant overhead scoreboard.
"Kiss Cam" flashed in bold red letters above the framed shot of a couple. It took Kelly a few seconds for it to sink in that the woman was her. Next to the Kelly on the scoreboard was a good-looking, well-built guy in a Penguins hat. She looked at the man in the seat next to her. Yep, that was him all right.
Without taking his compelling green eyes off her, the man removed his hat. His hair was a rich shade of gold, reminding her of the honey she drizzled on her toast at breakfast. There were more cheers…and more boos.
"They're waiting." His voice was magnetic, like his eyes. She managed to resist the force field and shake her head. The man gave an adorable, helpless shrug. More boos sounded.
"I have a boyfriend," she explained to the crowd, but of course they couldn't hear.
She watched the big screen as the camera moved on to an elderly couple who obliged with a sweet peck and a younger pair who threw their arms around each other and enjoyed.
The tension had started to leave her body when the camera returned, increasing it two-fold. The crowd noise got even louder.
"They won't stop until we give them what they want," the man with the golden hair said.
She hesitated a moment, then made up her mind. What would it hurt to kiss the guy on the cheek? The hockey game had half a period left. Better to kiss him than to constantly find herself on the big screen.
"Why not?" she murmured, puckering her lips as she leaned closer to him. She turned her head, intending to land one on the side of his face.
But he had turned, too, and it wasn't his cheek that she made contact with. It was his lips.
The shocking feel of the golden-haired stranger's lips on hers immobilized Kelly. Then those lips — those wonderful, clever lips — began to move so caressingly that thoughts of backing away fled.
She registered the clean, intoxicating smell of him at the same time she felt his fingers thread through her hair. She must have gasped, because his tongue was suddenly at the entrance to her mouth, as though asking permission to come in.
She touched it with the tip of her own tongue, then grew bolder and stroked. Permission granted, he laved the inside of her mouth, then dueled with her tongue. A heavy, liquid heat shot straight to her groin. She reached for the source of her pleasure, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him closer.
But something hard and unyielding was in the way. Over the blood rushing in her ears, she picked out the sound of a whistle amid a dull roar.
It dimly registered that the unyielding object was an armrest and the whistle was either a catcall or the signal that play was about to start again. The dull roar was crowd noise. Because she was at a hockey game. Passionately kissing a stranger.
She wrenched away from him so fast she felt her head jerk back. He was slow in dropping his hands from her hair. His eyes were glazed when he opened them. He smiled.
"Wow," he murmured. "We've got to do that more often."
"No," she said, more appalled at herself than she was at him. "I have a boyfriend."
"Your boyfriend doesn't deserve you." He said trailed a forefinger down her cheek. She thought about swatting it away but couldn't make her hand move. "If I'd made plans to go anywhere with you, I wouldn't cancel. Not even if the concert was to something lame, like the Backsteet Boys."
The concert? How could he know about that?
"Tell you what. Dump him and come out with me." His eyebrows, which were a couple shades darker than his hair, danced. "I'd appreciate you."
"You were eavesdropping!" she accused, smacking his hand. He nodded, shamelessly. "What are you? Some kind of a weirdo?"
His brows knitted together. "I'm not a weirdo."
She didn't give him a chance to explain any further. She tugged on her friend Andrea's sleeve to get her attention away from the hockey game. "Andrea, I need to change seats."
She didn't wait for Andrea to agree, clumsily stepping over her in her eagerness to get away from the eavesdropper.
"Would you please tell her I'm not a weirdo," she heard the man ask Andrea in a pleading voice when they were resettled. He sounded much more sincere than creepy.
"He says he's not a weirdo," Andrea said, her eyes still on the action.
"Tell him I'm not interested," she said to her friend, who dutifully relayed the message.
But if she wasn't interested, why couldn't she think about anything except the way his lips had felt on hers?
Tyler slouched back in his seat, stumped. He'd been rejected before, but not since high school and never by a woman who'd responded to his kiss so enthusiastically. He thought about getting her friend to relay the particulars of his athletic career, which had attracted plenty of women.
Two-sport star at West Allegheny High School. Drafted by the Penguins in the fifth round of the NHL entry draft even after he accepted a college baseball scholarship. A fast track to pro baseball, including quick stops at Pitt and the minor leagues. A bona fide star in center field for the home-team Pittsburgh Pirates by the time he was twenty-three, a status he'd enjoyed for three years.
He frowned before saying any of that out loud. He wanted her to like him for him, not for his accomplishments on the playing field. But how could he get across that he was a good guy?
One of the Penguins checked a Los Angeles King into the boards so hard the wood shuddered. The crowd shouted its approval. Barry winced. "Hate to see that," he said. Tyler smiled.
"Could you tell her my cousin Barry will vouch for me?" he asked the petite blonde with the curly hair who'd switched seats with the brunette. "He's a priest."
The blonde made a be-my-guest gesture in the brunette's direction. "I'm trying to watch the game here," she muttered.
The brunette peered across them at Barry with narrowed eyes. "If he were a priest, he'd be wearing the collar."
Tyler felt his mouth drop open. Did she actually believe he would lie about his cousin being a priest? "Priests need time off, too," he said, but neither the brunette nor her friend heard.
Nobody did because the fans had risen to their feet in one sweeping motion. The noise, loud before, was now deafening. Barry slapped him on the back. It wasn't hard to figure out the Penguins had scored.
Tyler started to stand but felt the splash of something cold on his back. Beer. From the cup of a careless fan who was embracing another fan behind him. In a swirl of black-and-gold euphoria, the Penguins embraced the player who'd scored the goal.
Barry gestured to the scoreboard, which showed the home team up by one. Damn, were there really only two minutes left in the game? Only one hundred and twenty seconds to convince the brunette who made his blood run hot that he was no weirdo.
The fans stayed on their feet as time ticked down, but the blonde created an effective barrier between Tyler and his goal.
"Barry really is a priest," he told her. She shrugged.
Then the game was over. He formed a new strategy as a voice on the public-address system announced the stars of the game. It involved following her up the stairs and turning on the charm.
The fans finally began filing out of the arena. He kept his eyes on her red shirt. She was only two steps in front of him. "Look. It's him!" he heard a young voice say.
He glanced around to see who the kid was talking about only to locate a finger pointing at him. Instantly, children waving programs surrounded him.
He sighed as he watched the woman's retreating back. He'd find her, he vowed. Even if he didn't know her name.
"I wonder who you were kissing last night," Andrea said much too loudly.
"Shh." Kelly whispered urgently, her eyes darting around the impersonal, spacious Career Builders office, "It's not like I had a choice."
"You did too." Andrea twisted a lock of curly hair around a finger. "Although I can't say I blame you."
"You didn't think he was a weirdo?"
"Heck no. I think he was some kind of celebrity. Did you see the way those kids surrounded him after the game? He looked vaguely familiar. Wonder who he was."
Kelly had wondered the same thing half the night, but she wasn't about to admit it. Like she told the man with the heavenly lips, she already had a boyfriend. "It hardly matters now," she said with a nonchalance she didn't feel. "We'll never find out."
"Hey, Kelly." George Grubb, a career counselor who thrived on gossip, approached her desk at a trot while waving a section of the newspaper. "Isn't this a photo of you?"
Kelly took the paper, which was open to the popular Pittsburgh People column that ran seven days a week in the features section. There, for all of Pittsburgh to see, was a photo of The Kiss. The caption below asked, "Who is Tyler McHale kissing? That's what he wants to know."
She quickly read the accompanying type: Tyler McHale is offering Pirate season tickets to the first person who can tell him who he was kissing last night. Our staff photographer took this photo while Pittsburgh's star centerfielder and the mystery woman locked lips for the Kiss Cam at last night's Penguins game. It's no secret that Ty became a free agent after the season. If you know who she is, call Pittsburgh People and we'll relay her identity to Ty. Do it quick. Maybe she can persuade him to stay in town.
Tyler McHale. She'd heard of him, of course. Who in town hadn't? That explained the smattering of boos. Die-hard Pittsburgh sports fans weren't happy about the prospect of losing him to another baseball team.
"It is you, isn't it?" George persisted.
"No." Kelly quickly folded the paper into quarters so nobody else would see the photo. "It's not me."
"But you and Andrea used the company tickets last night." George was a small man with a tidy build that always seemed to be in motion. He circled her desk, peering at her.
"What are you doing?" Kelly asked.
"Examining your profile."
"All right already." Kelly threw up her hands. "It is me. But you can't…" she finished the sentence to his retreating back "…tell."
Five minutes later, her private line rang. "What's going on?" her boyfriend, Joe, asked.
"It's all a big mistake," she said, repressing the urge to tell him she wouldn't have been kissing another man if he hadn't broken their date. After hanging up, she spent the next few hours afraid her private line would ring again and she'd hear Tyler McHale's voice.
"Kelly."
The phone hadn't rung, but that was his voice. It rumbled through her, making her insides quake in much the same way his kiss had last night. Slowly she raised her eyes from her position behind her desk until they reached his handsome, smiling face.
"Forgive me for not introducing myself last night," he said. "I'm Tyler McHale."
Another man might take the creases that appeared between Kelly Carpenter's eyebrows and the frown that marred her delectable mouth as ominous signs.
"You're wrong if you expect me to be impressed that you're a hotshot baseball player. I don't even follow the game," she said, words that another man might find discouraging.
Tyler McHale placed his large hands, which some said were the softest and surest in major-league baseball, a few feet apart on her desk. Then he leaned forward, partly because he wanted to breathe in her intoxicating scent once more but mostly because she attracted him. Like a bee to honey.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said. "I'm tired of women who want me only because I play baseball."
Her dark-brown eyes widened as his meaning registered, and he watched her debate with herself whether to lie and deny that a white-hot current connected them. She looked back and forth, as though checking to see whether anyone was watching. Then she jerked her head toward the outside hall. She got up. He followed.
"Look," she said as they walked down the hall. "After what happened at the game, it would be pointless to say I wasn't physically attracted to you."
Ah, so she was an honest one.
"But I don't intend to do anything about it," she continued. "I might not even like you if I got to know you."
"Then get to know me and find out," he suggested.
She stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the down button. Clearly he didn't have much time to make his pitch.
"I have lots of good traits," he said. "Like honesty. Ask my cousin Barry who, by the way, really is a priest. Call over to St. Mary of the Mount if you don't believe me."
A side of her mouth quirked upward but she didn't smile. "I believe you. But I've already told you, I have a boyfriend."
"A rotten one, I gather."
"He's not so pushy he doesn't take no for an answer."
"I didn't get where I am today by giving up easily." He moved a step closer. They weren't touching but still he felt the sizzle. "Have dinner with me on Saturday? Please."
He locked eyes with her, and she hesitated. Before she could answer, he heard rapid footsteps followed by a gasp. A small man with a big smile stood a few feet from him.
"Tyler McHale," the man said, taking his hand and pumping it. "It really is you."
He heard Kelly sigh. "Tyler, this is George Grubb. But then he probably already introduced himself when he called to claim the season tickets."
George monopolized him for the next few minutes, during which time two elevator cars came and went. When the third arrived, Kelly interrupted George's monologue about the day he nearly caught one of Tyler's home-run balls.
"George, Tyler's got to go," she said.
Tyler obediently stepped inside the cage and waited until the doors were nearly shut to announce, "I'll pick you up at seven Saturday then, Kelly."
He caught a last glimpse of her beautiful, stunned, confused face. George would clear up the confusion by telling her he'd already provided Tyler with her home address.
Kelly stood in pink terry-cloth pajamas on the doorstep of her Mount Washington town house, ignoring the panoramic view of the city six hundred feet below. She plucked the newspaper off the stoop, thumbed to the Pittsburgh People column and read:
Mystery solved! The lady whose kiss captivated baseball player Tyler McHale is Pittsburgh's own Kelly Carpenter, who works for a career counseling firm in the city. Ty reports they have a date tonight. Let's hope Kelly counsels the free-agent centerfielder to stay put.
"Tell that baseball player money's not everything."
Kelly jerked her head up to find her elderly neighbor Mr. Jablonski, who went for a walk every morning no matter the weather. Today was crisp and cool. "We're not dating," Kelly said.
He cocked one of his white eyebrows. "Then you better tell him that."
Excellent idea, she thought as she folded the newspaper and dashed back into the house. She picked up the phone, ready to punch in Tyler's number, only to realize she didn't know it.
She set the receiver back down, resolutely ignoring the way her body temperature had spiked at the mere prospect of talking to him. She could probably get his number from the Pittsburgh People reporter but she didn't want any more publicity.
She poured herself a cup of strong black coffee and sat down with the rest of the newspaper, hoping something else would occur to her if she stopped thinking so hard.
An hour later, she had a plan. She would have formed it sooner if she hadn't spent twenty minutes on the phone reassuring Joe that she wasn't going out with Tyler McHale tonight.
She'd found an item in the newspaper about a gift-wrapping fund-raiser at Station Square benefiting the local chapter of the Boys and Girls Clubs of America and featuring some of the city's sports personalities. Tyler had the one-to-three shift.
Kelly took a cable-powered passenger incline down the side of the mountain to the shops, which were across the Monongahela River from downtown Pittsburgh and housed in the original restored railroad buildings of the Pennsylvania and Lake Erie railroads.
By the time she got in line at the table where Tyler was signing autographs, she'd fielded three wolf whistles. A short green skirt paired with a festive red jacket might not have been the wisest clothing choice but, hey, 'tis the season.
Tyler's smile didn't waver for the next thirty minutes. He signed anything put in front of him, including a pair of women's shorts, and expertly deflected questions about whether he was staying in Pittsburgh. He was most animated with the children, with whom he cheerfully posed for photos.
"He's great with the kids, isn't he?" remarked a mother in line in front of her. Her two young sons wore Pirates baseball hats. "He gives so much back to the community. It'll be a shame if he signs with another team."
Then, finally, it was Kelly's turn.
"Hey," he said, the wattage of his smile increasing as his gaze moved appreciatively over her. His eyebrows danced. "Why are you waiting in line? I would have given you anything you wanted tonight."
She felt herself blush even as she willed herself not to. Darn it. Why did she let him shake her up so? "I can't go out with you tonight," she told him in a loud whisper.
Tyler's Christmas wish list wouldn't have included a line of excited, chattering baseball fans, but it was exactly what he needed. He cupped a hand to his ear, pretending he hadn't heard Kelly try to cancel their date.
"Can't talk now," he said, indicating the still-long line. "I've got another hour. But I'm sure Mary and the kids could use some help until then."
He gestured to a harried-looking woman parceling out gifts to a group of preteens from the boys and girls club. They sat at a long, messy table equipped with gaily colored paper, scissors and tape.
"But I didn't come here to wrap," she said.
"It's for a good cause," he coaxed and watched the fight go out of her. Damn, she was something. She'd claimed she might not like him if she got to know him, but he already liked her. Whatever emotion she felt appeared on her face as if in writing. Her dark eyes had softened when they fell on the young gift wrappers, telling him she was as beautiful inside as out.
"Okay," she said, "but later we are going to talk."
"Later" turned out to be another three hours when the gift wrappers shut down for the day. Tyler could have left when Penguin great Mario Lemieux relieved him at the autographing table at three o'clock. But Mary, who'd organized the event, theorized his continued presence would result in more donations, so he went to work wrapping presents alongside Kelly.
"If anyone so much as asks if I'm the mystery woman, I'm out of here," Kelly told him halfway through the afternoon.
But she'd pulled her hair back and stuffed it under the Santa hat Mary had given her, rendering her not nearly as recognizable but still as beautiful.
There was a hairy moment when a photojournalist appeared, but she was merely on the scene to get feature photos from the event. Then, finally, Mary packed up for the day.
Tyler ushered Kelly past holiday shoppers to a relatively quiet corner of the mall, where they were as alone as they were going to get. He put his hand on the wall behind her, as much because he wanted to be near her as to give them more privacy.
"So what did you want to talk about?" he asked.
"You know what." Her dark eyes met his momentarily, then looked away. "I can't go out with you tonight."
Her chest rose and fell in short bursts, her breathing as uneven as his own. He felt his heart rate speed up. A pulse in her throat raced just as fast.
"You know what I think." He smoothed dark hair that had gotten mussed under her Santa hat. "I think you wouldn't have come to Station Square if you didn't want to be with me."
"That's ridiculous," she said but still wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I don't think so," he whispered as he slowly moved nearer. "I think you've been thinking about that kiss every bit as much as I have."
"No," she said. "I haven't."
He tipped up her chin and saw desire in her eyes. "Then prove it."
Kelly wasn't certain who closed the rest of the distance between their mouths, but she wouldn't have bet against herself.
She'd lied when she claimed she hadn't thought about his kiss. She'd thought about it deep into the night, when she was alone in bed imagining Tyler McHale next to her. For days now, she'd tried very hard to convince herself the reality of the kiss hadn't been nearly as hot as her fantasy.
She was wrong. Reality was hotter, wetter, more thrilling.
This time she was the one who buried her fingers in his thick gold hair as she opened her mouth to him, inviting him to deepen the kiss almost as soon as it began.
Desire swirled through her and thickened, pooling in her breasts and deep in her belly. She was honest enough to admit her yearning for him hadn't been set off by his touch. It had been building all afternoon, as she'd watched him interact with his fans with charm and kindness.
She would have kept on kissing him but he lifted his head, causing their mouths to come apart. His breathing was as erratic as hers, his eyes as glazed. He blinked a few times and smiled.
"So where do you want to go?" he asked. "I wasn't going to pick you up until seven but we might as well start now, seeing it's already past five and we're here at Station Square. Let's see, there's the Grand Concourse and Houlihan's. If you're not hungry yet, we could go to the Hard Rock Cafe for a drink."
"But I already told you," she said in a shaky voice. "Dating you is not a good idea."
"It feels like a good idea to me," he whispered back. His warm breath near her ear set off an all-body shiver. "It felt like an even better idea when I was kissing you."
"We shouldn't have done that," she said, but made no move to back away. The tips of her fingers touched his cheek. "The mall's crowded. Anybody could have seen."
"Nobody's paying attention to us," he said.
She shook her head. "People pay attention to you wherever you go."
He rubbed the back of her hand with his knuckles. "I don't care who sees me kissing you."
"I care," she said.
He brought her hand to his lips, turned it over and placed a kiss in the center of her palm that sent an arrow of heat shooting through her.
"That's why I broke off the kiss," he said, "because you care."
The heat intensified, but now felt as though it had reached her heart. "You're kind of sweet," she told him.
"Does that mean you'll have dinner with me?"
She was about to capitulate when she heard an oddly familiar whir. "What was that?" she asked Tyler an instant before she heard the sound again.
They turned in unison to see the newspaper photographer who'd been snapping photos of the charity gift wrapping pointing her camera at them.
"Please tell me you won't print that," Tyler said.
"Are you kidding? It's the best shot I took all day," the photographer said and walked away.
Tyler turned back to Kelly with his hands upraised in an it-wasn't-my-fault pose.
"I've got to go," she said, tearing herself from his arms and losing herself in the crowd.
Any hope Kelly had of ending her string of appearances in the Pittsburgh People column was dashed when she opened the newspaper the next morning.
Although she and Tyler weren't kissing, the photo in today's edition was arguably more intimate than the first one. They stood close together, their heads angled toward each other while he held one of her hands in both of his.
She knew Tyler was attractive, but she hadn't realized how handsome he was until this moment. His shoulders and arms were muscular enough to send baseballs flying out of the park but his body was lean. His face, although perhaps a bit too angular, was already dear.
Just looking at the photo sent a rush of heat through her. She ignored it and began to read.
It looks like whatever mysteries were between Tyler McHale and his lady were solved last night.…
Kelly shut the newspaper without finishing the rest of the item and cradled her head in her hands. What had she done?
"What have you done?" asked Joe a few minutes later when she answered the phone. "You said you weren't going out with the baseball player."
"I didn't go out with him," Kelly began but didn't get any further. She held the phone away from her ear while he deluged her with questions that grew increasingly more irritating. Why did she put up with this man?
"Now it's my turn to ask you something." She'd successfully avoided Tyler yesterday by spending the night at Andrea's but should have been able to go to Joe's. "You told me you were staying in last night because you didn't feel good, but you didn't answer the phone when I called."
"Don't you dare compare a night of drinking with the guys to what you've been doing," he said, sounding outraged. "I should break up with you."
"As opposed to lying to me like you've been doing for the past year," she returned. Enough, she thought, was enough. "Don't bother. I'm breaking up with you."
She hung up but didn't get a chance to sort out her emotions before the phone rang again.
"I'm sorry," Tyler said when she picked up. "I called the newspaper and tried to get the editors not to run that photo but they wouldn't go for it."
"My boyfriend and I just broke up," she said. "It was your fault."
"Then let me make it up to you," he said, although he didn't sound at all contrite.
"How could you possibly do that?"
"I could take you to the Nutcracker this afternoon."
She hesitated. How could he have known she loved the Nutcracker? "You're really pushy."
"I know," he said. "And I'll keep on pushing until you go out with me."
"Okay, then. I'll go," she said, feeling compelled to add, "but just this one time."
Tyler kept a hand on the small of Kelly's back as they filed out of the auditorium where the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Cavalier had danced a pas de deux before Clara awakened beside the tree with her beloved nutcracker.
"Tell me again how you're related to the girl who danced the role of Clara," Kelly said when they were outside in the crisp, late-afternoon air.
"Annie's great-grandfather and my grandfather are brothers."
Lines appeared on her forehead. "But then why did you feel like you had to see her dance when you don't like the ballet?"
While she was trying to figure out the puzzle, he caught her
"If you want me to date you, dinner at my favorite restaurant is a powerful incentive," Kelly told Tyler after they'd eaten New York strip steak so succulent her taste buds still rejoiced. "But it'll only work once."
He gazed at her over a glass of Cabernet, as though she were more intriguing than the view of the city skyline from their table by the window. Across the Monongahela River, the skyscrapers of the new Pittsburgh formed a towering backdrop to a row of older, modest buildings. The city lights sparkled against the dark night, casting a dazzling reflection on the water.
Tyler reached across the table and captured her hand in his larger one. He turned it over, drawing lazy circles on her palm with his thumb. Her reaction to him was instantaneous, making is seem as though the candle flickering at the center of the table was scorching her insides.
"I have other ways of convincing you to keep me around," he said in a low growl.
She pulled her hand from his to the safety of her lap, then made the mistake of looking directly at him. The candlelight cast a soft glow over him, highlighting his strong, even features and turning his hair even more golden.
Breathe, she told herself. Think.
"I meant what I said before." She wanted to sound forceful, but her voice came out in scarcely more than a whisper. "It won't work between us and not only because you're leaving. Our ideas of success are too different."
He waited for her to continue, all his attention focused on her the way it had been all night. It struck her that when she was out with Joe, his eyes darted around, as though looking for something or someone more interesting.
"You probably think I should tell my boss that I'll quit if he doesn't pay me what I'm worth," she said.
"Damn right I do. That's what I did with the Pirates."
"That's my point," she said, then gestured at him with the sweep of her hand.
"Look at you. You have fame, fortune, fans and a family who loves you right here in Pittsburgh. Why can't you be happy with what you have?"
"Because I can get more," he said.
"Not from the Pirates. I read the papers, Tyler. Pittsburgh's a relatively small market. The owners can't afford to pay you any more than they've already offered."
"I've heard the company you work for is very successful. So your bosses can afford to pay you more," he pointed out.
"Maybe I don't want to rock the boat. I might make more money somewhere else, but I'm happy where I am."
"You could be happier."
She sighed. "You're missing the point. You're so busy going after what you think you want that you're not satisfied with what you already have."
He was silent for a moment. "Know what I think?" he asked, and she shook her head. "I think you're afraid to go after what you want. And I'm not only talking about a raise."
"Oh, really?" She felt her eyebrows arch. "Suppose you tell me what you think I want."
"Me," he said.
hand. "How could you tell I don't like ballet?"
"Besides the fidgeting and the snoring?"
He laughed. "I did not snore."
"Maybe not, but your eyes were closed part of the time."
"When you meet Annie's parents, don't you dare tell them that."
"Are you close to them?" she asked.
He took it as a positive sign that she didn't insist she would never meet Annie's parents. "I've lived in the Pittsburgh area all my life. I'm close to all my family. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins. You name it."
"I'm an only child. I grew up just outside Pittsburgh in Fox Chapel but my parents retired to Florida a couple years ago. Joe and I visit them on holidays and in the summer, but I could never see myself moving to Florida or anywhere else. I love it here too much."
"Joe?"
"My b —, I mean my ex-boyfriend. We went together for more than two years."
"Seems to me it shouldn't have been any longer than two weeks," he said, and she gave him a sharp look. "I overheard you at the hockey game, remember? He was a lousy boyfriend. You would have dumped him sooner if you didn't have such a hard time asserting yourself."
She pulled her hand from his. "You don't know what you're talking about," she said, but she stared at the ground.
"Then why haven't you marched into your boss's office and demanded a raise? And why did you wait for Joe to break up with you?"
"For your information," she said stiffly, "I was the one who broke it off."
He grinned. "Then there goes your excuse for not dating me."
"I have others," she said, hardly pausing before she added, "You're too pushy."
"Impossible. Besides, I can show you how to stand up for yourself. You dumped your boyfriend after knowing me for less than a week, didn't you?"
"That had nothing to do with you."
He cocked an eyebrow but refrained from mentioning the photos in the paper.
"Here's another reason I shouldn't get involved with you," she said. "You won't stick around."
"How can you know that?"
"Everybody in town knows you're about to go to the highest bidder. It's simple. I'm staying. You're leaving."
Leaving. The word hit him like a blow even though his agent had set things in motion nearly a year ago by advising him not to renew his contract. She was right. He was leaving. So what could he say to make her want to stick around until he did?
As he rode the incline to the top of Mount Washington with Kelly, Tyler had the unfamiliar feeling that he'd pushed too hard. He did believe that she wanted him, but he was starting to think it hadn't been smart to say so.
"What are your plans for Christmas?" he asked, then could have rolled his eyes.
They were in a nearly deserted cable car. The glittering city was below them. He itched to put his arm around her and draw her close, but he was making small talk. Small talk!
"I usually head to Florida on Christmas Eve, but this year my parents are going on a ski vacation." She sat stiffly beside him, barely glancing at him. "So Andrea invited me to spend the holiday with her family. How about you?"
"Same as every year. I'll be here in town with my family. Eating. Drinking. Being merry."
"That's nice," she said, and he could have groaned.
Nice would be drawing her into his arms and kissing her until she couldn't think clearly enough to claim he was too pushy. Come to think of it, he'd pushed to get her to agree to take the incline.
The restaurant where they'd had dinner was in a riverfront hotel in Station Square, not far from the mall where he'd signed autographs. He could easily have driven her home in the silver Jag he'd bought himself as a reward after hitting over .300 this past season. But he'd wanted the evening to last. So he'd downplayed her very valid point that he'd have to ride back down the mountain alone and wouldn't get home until very late.
"I'm surprised somebody as young as you are has a place up here," he said when they were off the incline and walking up a steep hill to her town house, which was on a prime piece of real estate.
"If my grandfather hadn't left me some money, I'd never be able to afford it on my salary." She sent him a sidelong look. "Believe me, I know how lucky I am. The view from up here is so beautiful, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else."
Tyler couldn't imagine a better view than the one he had right now of her sweet profile.
They were side by side, but not touching. Tyler had to press his elbows against his sides so he didn't reach for her. He still hadn't touched her when they reached her door, from which hung a live wreath decorated with sprigs of holly.
"Thank you for a wonderful evening," she said, her breath making frosty white clouds in the night air.
"You're welcome," he said.
She screwed up her nose, watching him intently, giving him the impression she was waiting for him to make a move. But she'd said he was too pushy. Although it nearly killed him, he didn't make the first move.
But then he didn't have to, because she kissed him.
In the charged moment before Kelly put a hand to the back of Tyler's head and dragged his mouth down to hers, the message he'd been trying to get across became clear. Go after what you want.
He was right, she thought as she molded her lips to his and the now-familiar sensations flooded her. She wanted Tyler.
He let her take the lead and she deepened the kiss, thrusting her tongue between his lips to explore the hot sweetness of his mouth. As passion spiraled between them, it occurred to her that she had never before initiated a kiss with a man. Not even with Joe, not even after they'd dated for years. But Joe had never inspired this intense yearning. Joe, she realized, had never inspired her at all.
She strained to get closer to Tyler, frustrated by the thick layers of clothing between them. Locating the zipper on his black leather jacket, she tugged downward. Surprise and confusion mingled in an unhappy alliance when he stayed her hand and drew back.
"What do you want, Kelly?" he asked in a low, insistent voice.
"You," she answered, so frustrated by his withdrawal she wanted to howl.
"Then invite me in," he suggested.
She hesitated, but just for a moment, then unlocked her door, took him by the hand and pulled him inside. "Come in," she said.
Laughing, he kicked the door shut behind them. Then she was peeling off his jacket and shrugging out of her own winter coat. Somehow they ended up on the sofa in her living room, a trail of clothes behind them, the promise of pleasure ahead of them.
Her lips clung to his in one of the series of drugging kisses that had begun at the door. This one was infinitely more satisfying because they were bare skin to bare skin. His back rested against an armrest and she was half on top of him, still the aggressor. She was naked except for a silky pair of underwear. His button-down shirt hung open to reveal a spectacularly muscled chest. He wore only one sock and a pair of black briefs.
"Go ahead," he encouraged when her thumb hooked on the elastic of his briefs. Then she was undressing him, shimmying out of her own panties and covering him with the protection he dug from the pocket of his discarded pants.
"That's right," he said a few mindless minutes later when she aligned herself with him and guided his thick length inside her.
She hadn't bothered to turn on the Christmas tree lights, but it didn't matter. She felt illuminated from within as they rocked together, sharing a passion that she'd had the courage to unleash, loving the man who'd given her that courage.
Later, as they lay sated in each other's arms, she caught sight of the wall clock. "The incline stopped running fifteen minutes ago," she said. "You can't get down the mountain tonight."
"So what do you suggest?"
She got up, pasted on a siren's smile and offered him her hand. "Once we get to my bedroom," she said, "I'm sure we'll think of something."
A holiday classic was trying to seep its way into Tyler's consciousness.
Something from Bach, he thought. Possibly a Christmas cantata. He shut his eyes tight, trying to hold on to the night. A very naked Kelly Carpenter had spent it stretched out next to him, trustingly nestled in his arms. But now she was disentangling herself, moving away and turning off her bedside alarm clock radio, which had been set to a classical music station.
He opened his eyes to find her sitting up in bed, a sheet raised over her beautiful breasts. Although it was still dark in the room, he could clearly read her touch-me-not body language. He rolled over, turned on a light and saw wariness in her eyes. Damn. He propped himself up on one elbow.
"Last night was not a mistake," he said.
Her eyes grew even more troubled. "But I'm not sure —"
"Be sure," he interrupted, then tugged on her hand so that she overbalanced. In a heartbeat, he covered her mouth with his, taking advantage of the fact that hers was open in surprise.
He felt her relax against him as he kissed her thoroughly, using the techniques he'd learned she liked from their night together. Her eyes were dazed when he ended the kiss.
"We belong together, Kelly," he said urgently. He brought her hand to his madly beating heart, then transferred both of their hands to her chest. Her heart drummed just as fast. "Can't you feel what we do to each other?"
"But we look at things so differently," she said. "I don't know whether it will work."
"We'll make it work," he said, running his hand from her bare hip and over the curve of her waist to cup her breast. He felt the nipple pebble.
She gasped. "I can't be late for work. The people in my office, they…depend on me."
"I can be quick if you can," he said and waited.
She hesitated and rolled her eyes. Right before she kissed him, she muttered, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
But she did. Quite extraordinarily well.
Later, as they hurried down the sidewalk to the incline, a chilly wind blasted them. Dawn had broken but clouds obscured the sun. The line inside the station stretched nearly to the station agent's booth, long enough that they couldn't get on the first car and had to wait for the second.
They filed onto the crowded car, which had three sets of bench seats on different levels, and sat huddled together on the upper one. "You're smiling," Kelly accused.
"I'm thinking about how you'll say yes when I ask you to spend Christmas with my family," he said.
"Andrea already invited me to her place."
"She'll understand," he said. "If she doesn't, give me her phone number and I'll talk to her."
"Hey, aren't you Ty McHale?" a man across from them asked. Tyler nodded, pasting on his automatic celebrity smile.
The man jabbed his finger in the air. "You're a bum if you leave this city after all it's done for you."
"The nerve of that man," Kelly said, fuming, as they walked to the stop where she caught the subway.
"Forget about him and think about this."
He caught her in his arms and kissed her, effectively banishing the memory. The truth was he didn't want to think about what the man said, either.
Kelly barely made it through the door of Career Builders before her friend Andrea sidled up next to her.
"What's going on?" Andrea asked in a loud whisper while tapping the face of her watch. "Look at the time."
"I'm a couple minutes early," Kelly pointed out.
"You're twenty minutes later than usual. Not to mention, Joe called me last night to say you broke up with him, and you didn't answer your phone when I called you."
Kelly examined the worry lines marring her friend's brow and frowned. "You can't think breaking up with Joe was a mistake."
"I don't," Andrea said quickly. "But Joe claimed you did it because of Tyler McHale."
"I broke up with Joe because he didn't treat me right."
Andrea visibly relaxed. "I've got to admit, when you didn't answer your phone last night, I thought Joe might be right. So why didn't you answer?"
"I was busy," Kelly said and paused, "with Tyler McHale."
Andrea looked so pained that Kelly gently squeezed her shoulder.
"At first I didn't think Tyler would be good for me, either," Kelly admitted, noticing the Career Builders CEO sitting in his office. "But watch this."
With her back straight and head high, she crossed to Patrick Porter's office and knocked crisply on the door. He beckoned her inside, peering at her over the top of his reading glasses. She took a deep breath and surged ahead.
"My work here has been exemplary," she said, "and I deserve a raise. I'm thinking ten percent."
His dark eyebrows arched. "You know how much I value you, Kelly, but that's out of the question."
Her inclination was to drop her head and meekly leave the office but instead she raised her chin. "I'm sorry to hear that because now I'll be forced to look for another job where I'm better appreciated."
Before she reached the door, she heard him sigh. "Six percent," he said.
"Eight," she countered.
"Done," he said.
"I got that raise you're always telling me I deserve," she told Andrea when she got back to her desk, "because Tyler convinced me to go after what I want."
"But, Kelly, everybody knows Tyler's leaving."
"We'll see about that," Kelly said. Her phone rang. It was the Pittsburgh People reporter, wanting an update. And, more importantly, her opinion on whether there was any chance Tyler would stay in town.
"Rumor has it there's a deal in the works with the Dodgers," the reporter said.
"He hasn't left yet, has he?" Kelly asked.
That night, satisfied and happy, she fell asleep in her lover's arms with a smile on her lips. Tyler wouldn't leave. Not when he had everything he needed right here in Pittsburgh. Including the woman who loved him.
"What do you think?" Tyler asked his sister Clare and cousin Barry when Kelly excused herself to make a phone call, supremely confident of their answers. It was two days before Christmas, and the four of them were at Tyler's favorite pub in Shadyside, the popular Pittsburgh suburb where Tyler lived.
"I already told you what I thought at the hockey game." Barry wore his collar today, leaving no doubt of what he did for a living. "She's a babe."
"She's wonderful, Ty," Clare said. "I can see why you didn't want to wait until Christmas to introduce her."
Tyler put down his beer, not liking the cautious tone in his sister's voice. Of his four siblings, he was closest to Clare. "But?"
"But does she know you're leaving?"
"We've seen each other every day for more than a week," Tyler said, uncomfortably aware he hadn't answered the question.
"And?"
"And we don't talk about it." Tyler affected a shrug. "But it's not like she doesn't know. Everybody knows."
"That item in Pittsburgh People hinted you might stay," Clare pointed out.
"Nobody believes that."
"Kelly might," Barry interjected. "Women in love don't see things clearly."
Kelly was in love with him? A month ago, the notion that any woman might love him would have sent him into a panic. But the prospect of Kelly loving him made him feel…happy.
"It's not a big problem," Tyler said. "When I leave, I'll just ask her to come with me."
Clare squealed and reached across the booth to squeeze his hand. "Wait 'til Mom hears. She's been waiting forever for you to fall in love."
But Barry frowned. "Kelly's answer might not be what you think it will be, Ty. The way she talks about Pittsburgh, she's pretty wedded to the place."
"She'll say yes," Tyler said, willing it to be so.
"Who'll say yes to what?" Kelly asked, sliding into the booth beside him. Tyler put his arm around her, drawing her close.
He wasn't ready yet to spring the question on her, not when he didn't have a firm offer from another baseball team. He kissed her lightly on the lips to deflect her attention.
"The question's R-rated so I can't ask it in front of Barry," he joked. "He's a priest, you know."
She'll come with me when I go, Tyler told himself later that evening when he looked deep into Kelly's passion-bright eyes and joined his body with hers. She has to.
A night of lovemaking, this time in his bed, effectively put the subject out of his mind until a phone call awakened them the next morning. He listened intently before replacing the receiver on the cradle.
"Who was that?" Kelly asked sleepily, rubbing her cheek against his bare shoulder.
"My agent, Maury," Tyler said. "The Dodgers made an offer paying me an unbelievable amount of money. He's advising me to take it."
Kelly sat up and shoved the hair out of her eyes.
This is it, she thought. The moment of reckoning. Would Tyler stay in town with her and the countless other people who loved him or would he leave?
Even though she was fairly sure of his answer, her voice shook when she asked, "So what are you going to do?"
"Are you kidding?" He'd sat up in bed, too. With his chest bare and the white sheets bunched around his waist lending contrast to his golden skin, he looked like a Greek god. "I'm taking the offer."
Her heart sank like a boulder dropped from a tall building. She quickly turned her back on him, swung her legs over the side of the bed and rummaged on the floor for her clothes. Her eyes were shut to prevent tears from seeping. How could she have misread him so badly?
"What are you doing?" His voice came from behind her.
She pulled on her shirt, yanked on her panties and stepped into her pants. "I'm leaving."
"But it's Christmas Eve." Tyler sounded confused. "We're going to spend the day together."
She wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape, finished dressing and turned to face him. Her body was still warm from the way she'd been snuggled against him, her muscles pleasantly sore from making love to him. She wanted to launch herself back into his arms, but she couldn't. Not now. Not ever again.
"We need to end things now," she said with the assertiveness he'd helped her develop.
"Wait a minute." Tyler got out of bed with the speed and agility of the athlete he was and took her by the shoulders. "We're not ending anything."
She made herself look him in the eyes. "You're moving to Los Angeles, Tyler. I'm staying here."
"You could come with me," he said softly, then with more volume, "Come with me, Kelly."
Her heart leapt, urging her to say yes. But the voice inside her brain was louder because it was the voice of reason.
"We've talked about this before, Tyler. I'm not like you, always looking for greener pastures. My life's here. This is where I belong. I can't come with you."
He let go of her, closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead. When he opened his eyes again, they looked determined. "Look, you don't have to make a decision right now. I realize it's too sudden. And, anyway, it's not like I'll be gone all year. I'll come back to Pittsburgh in the off-season."
She bit her bottom lip to prevent it from trembling and blinked to stop from crying. How could she make him understand it would never work between them, not when their very philosophies of life were so different?
"It won't work, Tyler," she said. "You're never satisfied. How could I be sure you'd be satisfied with me?"
He let out a short, disbelieving sound. "Because I love you."
The declaration should have made joy explode in her heart. Instead, she felt immeasurably sad. "I love you, too, Tyler. That's why I can't see you anymore."
She rushed out of his bedroom, stopping to put on her shoes and coat before she left the house. Thank God she'd driven her car. Because their love affair, which had barely begun, was over.
Four days after what had been a dismal Christmas, Tyler sat on the leather armchair in his den with the copy of the contract his agent had faxed him on his lap.
Every clause he'd asked for was there in black-and-white. Guaranteed money. Multiple years. No trade without his approval. Hell, they'd even agreed not to ban him from high-risk activities like skiing and motorcycling.
No doubt the Dodgers wanted him badly. Supposedly they were holding their collective breath until he signed the papers, which was supposed to happen later today.
So why couldn't Kelly want him like that? He abruptly stood up, the pages of the contract spilling on the floor as he went in search of his cordless phone.
He found it in his kitchen and punched in her private line at work. She'd told him she'd be working Monday and Tuesday, but the answering machine kicked in. Her sweet, recorded voice came over the line, the same way it had the half-dozen times he'd called her at home since she walked out on him.
"Screw this," he said, switching off the phone and tossing it down on the kitchen table. He scooped up his keys, grabbed his leather jacket and headed for his Jag.
His agent, like everything else in his life, was based in Pittsburgh. Maury wasn't expecting him for another few hours, which would give him plenty of time to stop by Career Builders and convince Kelly he'd never grow dissatisfied with her.
"What do you mean she's not here?" he asked her friend Andrea thirty minutes later. "Kelly never leaves the office before six o'clock."
"She did today," Andrea said, glaring at him out of unfriendly blue eyes. "The management team took her out to dinner. Don't ask me where because I won't tell you."
A movement to Tyler's left caught his eye. George Grubb, who'd undoubtedly sell out his mother.
"Hey, George," Tyler called. "Tell me where Kelly is and I'll throw a couple autographed baseballs in with those season tickets."
"I'm not sure of the restaurant but they're going to the Penguins game afterward."
"Thanks," Tyler said and made to leave.
"That was underhanded," Andrea said.
"Give me a break. I love the woman."
"You don't know what you love," she retorted.
He thought about the unfairness of Andrea's accusation during the short walk from Career Builders to his agent's office in Gateway Center. He was still thinking about it when Maury put the contract in front of him to sign.
He did too know what he loved. He loved his large, noisy family. He loved the hills, rivers and people of Pittsburgh. He loved playing for the Pirates and its fans. He loved Kelly. And he loved his life.
Maury cleared his throat, drawing Tyler's attention. "What are you waiting for, son? Sign the contract."
Tyler picked up the fancy gold pen Maury had laid out for the occasion and flipped to the signature page.
After four years of unstinting loyalty to Career Builders, the CEO had offered Kelly a promotion. Finally.
Along with the company vice president and senior business consultant, Patrick Porter had taken her to a Market Square steakhouse that had been painstakingly restored to look as it did at the turn of the century. Then he'd given her exactly what she'd asked for the week before. The position of business manager.
If they hadn't been at the Penguins game, waiting for the opening face-off, she would have spoken the words aloud to hear how they sounded. Kelly Carpenter, business manager.
She'd wanted her hard work to be recognized so badly that the promotion would have thrilled her a month ago. But now…now her career aspirations paled in comparison to what she really wanted.
Because what she wanted was Tyler.
The lights dimmed and the hockey players skated onto the ice to loud music and great fanfare before filing into their respective benches. A pretty, young blonde with a microphone and street shoes carefully stepped onto the ice and the crowd stood for the national anthem.
She wanted Tyler, Kelly thought as the blonde sang about rockets glaring and bombs bursting. She'd been wrong when she told him she belonged in Pittsburgh. She belonged where her heart was, and her heart was with Tyler, whether he was in Los Angeles or Timbuktu.
The young girl finished singing, and the referee skated to the face-off circle, ready to drop the puck.
Loving him was a risk because he wasn't the type of man to be satisfied with the status quo. But it was a risk she had to take precisely because she loved him. She tugged on her boss's sleeve as the Penguins skated past the blue line with control of the puck.
"Mr. Porter, I can't take that promotion," she said and watched his mouth drop open. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I need to give notice. And I definitely need to leave."
He didn't find his voice until she'd squeezed her way out of the aisle. "Where are you going?" he called after her.
"I'm going after what I want," she answered, then practically sprinted up the arena stairs. Halfway there, she stopped. Because Tyler McHale, looking as golden as her hopes, was coming down them.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, then waved off his answer. What did it matter as long as he was here?
"Yes, I'll come with you to Los Angeles," she blurted out, her heart in her throat. "If you still want me to."
"I would if I were still going," he said, coming the rest of the way down the stairs to meet her halfway. "But I'm staying with the Pirates."
"You didn't sign the contract?" asked a fan sitting in the aisle seat nearest them.
"I was going to, but I couldn't," Tyler said, keeping his eyes on Kelly.
The fan stood up. "Hey, everybody," he yelled. "Ty McHale's staying in Pittsburgh."
"Why?" Kelly mouthed over the resulting cheers.
"You were right. I have everything I ever wanted right here," he said. "If, that is, I can have you."
"You already do," she said, launching herself into his arms.
Neither of them noticed the break in the action or the camera that zoomed in on them, beaming their image onto the scoreboard. But then, this time, nobody had to prompt them to kiss for the camera.
The End