“This will be over quicker than you can say your name.” He hopped on before she could change her mind, then motioned in front of him.
After brief moments of hesitation, she sat at the foot of the toboggan, then levered herself backward until she was between his legs, closer to his chest.
He realized he was going to have to put his arms around her to guide the toboggan, unless she wanted to handle steering. “If you want me to guide the sled, I’m going to have to put my arms around you and take hold of the lead.”
“Fine,” came her small low voice.
This had been such a bad idea. His knees were lodged against her hips. After he slid forward, his arms went around her and he felt her tense. But then she handed him the rope.
“Stay loose,” he warned her, his chin practically touching her shoulder. “If we do capsize, it’ll make the tumble easier.”
“Do I really want to do this?” she muttered, looking toward heaven.
His arms were under hers now. In spite of the cold he felt the warmth from her body, the heat of whatever sexual attraction was zipping between them. It wasn’t one-sided.
She wore a pull-on knit cap, and it almost touched his nose as he used his leg to push them off. “Hold on,” he suggested as they tilted over the crest of the hill and began their descent.
She did hold on. Her hands clasped his arms, and the rush of wind, the bite of cold rising from the snow, the accelerated speed as they picked up velocity, weren’t as thrilling as having this woman in his arms. As they flew down the hill, she lay into his chest. He leaned forward to protect her. The ride was exhilarating. Her perfume mingling with the pine and winter was intoxicating. The rush that went through him surpassed anything he’d ever felt on the football field. That was most surprising of all. He’d thought he’d lost that adrenaline lift forever. But here it was today, because of Angela Schumacher.
The ride was over as quickly as it had begun. One moment the toboggan was speeding, the downhill slope propelling it. The next they were coasting to a stop.
Neither of them spoke or moved, although other sleds and tubes careered down the hill around them. Riders jumped off, grabbed their leads and marched up the hill again for another run.
But David and Angela just sat there.
“That was something,” he said just to get her to talk.
When she glanced over her shoulder, their faces were very close. “It was indescribable.”
Her lips were so prettily curved, her chin as petite and delicate as the rest of her. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to take another ride like that. But if he did, he’d ruin his chance to get to know Anthony. He’d ruin their chances of maybe becoming friends. He’d ruin the path he’d set for himself to make success a priority, his store and working with kids all the purpose in life he needed.
He inched back away from her. “I’m glad you liked it.”
When she saw he was extricating himself, she slid forward and then climbed to her feet. Slapping her hands together to warm them, she grimaced. “I think it’s time to go. The kids have got to be as cold as I am.”
He wasn’t cold at all because of the fire that had started burning inside of him—a fire he knew could only lead to trouble. “Maybe we could round them up and have more of that hot chocolate. Anthony hasn’t even looked me directly in the eyes yet today, and I’d like to accomplish at least that much.”
“Hot chocolate it is. I think there are a few cookies left, too.”
They began trudging up the hill. The snow was wearing an icy sheen from the movement of the sleds on top of it. Near the top, one of Angela’s booted feet slipped.
Before she could topple sideways, David wrapped an arm around her. They were body to body again, and he wondered if he should have just let her fall.
But he couldn’t have done that.
As soon as she regained her balance, she pushed away. “Thanks,” she mumbled, negotiating the rest of the climb herself.
David was beginning to see that Angela Schumacher was a modern day, independent woman.
Maybe.
Jessica had taught him that actions weren’t always a good indicator of what was going on inside a woman’s head. After the accident that had killed one of his friends and ruined his career, she could have earned an Academy Award for her smiling visits of support, the cards she sent him in rehab, the telephone calls that had assured him he’d be on top of the world again in no time.
The day after the accident, everyone had known his NFL dreams were dust. Including Jessica. Maybe she really hadn’t known how she’d felt. Maybe she’d been trying out a role to see how it fit. Maybe she hadn’t felt any love at all, but had simply wanted to ride his jersey into a life of fame, fortune, big houses and luxurious cars. She’d walked away because she’d signed up for a fiancé different from the one she’d gotten.
Loyalty and promises kept were rare commodities these days.
Angela was shaking when she reached the top of the hill. Her trembling had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with David Moore. Teenage crushes were long ago and far away and had no right to reach out and grab her now. Just because his eyes seemed to swallow her up. Just because his smile made her toes curl. Just because he listened as if she really had something to say. None of that could excuse this reaction.
Olivia came running over to her.
With a nonchalance she wished she could feel, David offered, “I’ll round up Michael and Anthony and stow their gear.”
“I’ll warm up the van and get out the snacks.”
As Olivia dragged her tube behind her, they walked toward the van in the parking lot. “Do we have to go home?”
“Sure do. You’re going to turn into an icicle otherwise.”
When Angela pressed the remote to open the doors, Olivia asked, “How did it feel going down the hill with Coach Moore?”
What should a mother say to that? “It was over so fast I hardly remember it.”
Liar, an inner voice accused.
“He’s a real hottie, isn’t he?”
Angela just stared at her daughter. She was only seven, for goodness sakes. “Where do you pick up this language?”
“I watch TV,” her daughter said impishly, then added, “I hear the middle-school girls talking on the bus. Everybody does. I don’t live in a bubble, Mom.”
Whatever happened to seven-year-olds playing with baby dolls, putting puzzles together or skipping rope with friends? Even Olivia wanted an MP3 player for Christmas, and Angela had no doubts she probably knew how to use one.
Still with that grin, her daughter added, “I think you like him.”
Oh, terrific! Apparently her reactions to the man were obvious even to Olivia.
“Coach Moore is going to spend some time with Anthony, I hope. That’s it.”
“You don’t want to go out with him?” Olivia asked with her eyes narrowing.
“Of course not. When would I even have time?” She dropped her arm around Olivia’s shoulders. “I’ve got a life daughter, dear. I’ve got you and Anthony and Michael. What more do I need?”
“You still miss Daddy, don’t you?”
As always, when her kids asked a question like that, Angela paid complete attention. Dropping down to Olivia’s eye level she admitted, “I miss what we once had. I miss another adult in the house to talk