Taking the single step that brought them nose-to-nose once again, he leaned in until she was forced to lean back or risk him touching her. As it was, his hot breath bathed her face and feathered through the hair at her temples.

“If you believe that,” he hissed, “then you never really knew me at all.”

And with that, he spun on his heel, crossed the room to grab his leather jacket, and slammed out the front door.

Knit 7

Ronnie wrinkled up the empty Combos bag and tossed it over her shoulder into the back seat. Then she reached into the console and dug around for a stick of gum.

“Dylan is not going to appreciate it when I show up at his door with dragon breath,” she said, as Grace made a right-hand turn into the Marriott parking lot.

“Dylan is going to be so thrilled to see you, he won’t care if your breath smells like Charlotte ’s barn,” Grace reassured her with a chuckle. “And if it’s that bad, he’ll just bend you over the bureau with your face in the other direction.”

Even though her cheeks heated at the image her friend’s comment created, Ronnie laughed so hard, she nearly swallowed the gum.

“Or here’s another novel idea: I could make him wait five seconds while I borrow his toothbrush.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Well, if you wanted to take the logical route, I suppose that would work.”

Ronnie still couldn’t believe they were doing this. An impromptu road trip hadn’t been on her list of things to do over the weekend, but as soon as Grace had called her back to let her know that Jenna was not only alive and well, but crossing all of her fingers and toes that last night’s mission had been accomplished, and then suggested they get the hell out of Dodge just in case, Ronnie had suddenly thought it sounded like a stellar idea.

It was one thing to manipulate events and take some liberties with a man’s free will when it came to sex, but it was a whole other thing to stick around and wait for The Wrath of Gage to fall upon them.

If he woke up pissed, Ronnie just knew she and Grace were going to be at the top of his list of people to kill. And the man was a redwood. He could snap them in half with his pinky finger, if the notion took him… something she would just as soon avoid, if at all possible.

So a road trip for a little out-of-town nookie and temporary witness relocation it was.

The parking lot was packed, but they eventually found a spot about six miles from the main building and pulled in. Both women gathered their purses and small overnight bags, then locked up and made the long trek to the hotel lobby.

Unlike most nearly empty hotel lobbies, this one was packed-and every other person milling about wore a Cleveland Rockets jersey, sweat- or T-shirt, or some other type of hockey paraphernalia. There were even a few giant foam fingers being waved around.

Those who weren’t obvious hockey fans were even more obvious puck bunnies, dressed in skintight jeans or short-shorts and tops so snug, one good breath would have their breasts popping out like they were at a La Leche convention.

She probably couldn’t spot them as quickly as Grace did, but Ronnie knew a groupie when she saw one. And living with a sports reporter who covered the Rockets almost exclusively meant that she spent her fair share of time at games and practices, and wasn’t the least bit surprised by the number of fans hanging out in the hotel lobby praying a player would wander through. Some were hoping for autographs, others pictures. And the bunnies… well, they were hoping for the chance to put another notch on their bedposts with some willing player’s skate blade.

“Thank God we don’t have to bother with going up to the registration desk and asking for room numbers,” Grace said as they bypassed the crowd and headed directly for the bank of elevators.

“Yep. It pays to be sleeping with a star goalie and the team’s own personal sports reporter,” Ronnie quipped in response.

Grace cast a disparaging glance toward the stacked and shellacked bimbettes waiting for a chance to do just that. “Not that you’d ever catch me hanging around like that. I don’t care how hot some of the players are, don’t those women have any self-respect?”

Ronnie followed Grace’s gaze just in time to see a groupie with blond hair bleached within an inch of its life lean over… and the waistband of her jeans ride down to reveal a bright red thong and a vine-and-roses tramp stamp at the small of her back.

“Good God,” Ronnie said, appalled. She blinked rapidly and turned away. “I think I’ve been struck blind.”

Grace chuckled as the elevator dinged and the up arrow turned green. “Do you need me to walk you to Dylan’s room, or do you think you’ll be okay?” she asked as they stepped into the car.

“Give me a minute, I think I’ll recover.”

The elevator dinged again and the door slid open on the twelfth floor. Ronnie patted the buttoned panel and the cool metal frame, feigning visual impairment. “Is this where I get off?” she teased.

Grace put a hand in the center of her back and shoved her playfully into the deserted hallway. “Only if you’re lucky,” she quipped as the doors slid closed again.

Ronnie stood there for only a second before turning on her heel and heading for room 1218. When she arrived, she raised a hand and knocked hard, doing her best to stifle a grin as she barked out, “Room service!”

She heard shuffling on the other side and pictured Dylan climbing off the bed or sofa and making his way to the door. The locks clicked and the knob turned.

“I didn’t call room-”

The door swung wide and he froze in mid-sentence, taking in her seductive pose as she lounged against the jamb.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she murmured in her sultriest Kathleen Turner/Body Heat impression. “Did you order a little afternoon delight?”

A playful twinkle lit his blue eyes and his mouth curved up in a sexy smile. Warm pleasure burst in her chest and spread outward.

Dylan had only been on the road a week, but Ronnie realized now how very much she’d missed him. For a woman who prided herself on her independence, she sure had adapted quickly to living with a man.

She loved falling asleep at night with him at her side and waking up to him each morning. And when he wasn’t there, she missed him. Missed his warmth and his presence and the way the mattress dipped whenever he moved.

If she was the first person up in the morning, she automatically fixed breakfast for him at the same time she fixed her own, and knew that if things were reversed, she could look forward to him doing the same.

She called him to ask if he wanted her to bring something home for dinner, and picked up items at the grocery store that she knew he’d like.

She was, for all intents and purposes, silly in love. And to add insult to injury, she wasn’t even trying to fight it.

Six months ago, she would have; she’d have fought it tooth and nail. Now, she simply let go and allowed the sensation to carry her along, like a leaf on the wind. She was happy. Content. Her life was finally full and well-rounded, and she was enjoying the hell out of it.

“I didn’t,” Dylan answered, “but I’ll be more than happy to sign for the delivery, anyway.”

“Oh. Well. If you’re not interested…” she teased, pretending to be offended and turn away.

He grabbed her arm and tugged her into the room, letting the door slam shut behind her while he hauled her up against his chest and laid one on her. His mouth was soft and warm and very welcome after the three-plus hours it had taken to get from Cleveland to Columbus.

When they broke apart long, long, loooong minutes later, Dylan pressed his forehead against hers, his hands around her neck, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

“Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming?” he asked.