When she finally looked up and saw him, she tucked her sketchbook into her bag and came down the stairs.
“Took you long enough,” she said, her gaze scanning his face and hair. “Did you use extra gel and a blow-dryer?”
He liked that she gave him a hard time. “Yeah. It was a rough night. Plus, I wanted to look pretty for you. Did it work?”
She held her gaze on his awhile. “I won’t need to put a bag over your head, so I guess you’ll do.”
He laughed and grasped her hand. “Come on. I must have burned a thousand calories on that game. I need a big steak.”
He led her out through the side door, where he’d already arranged to have a car.
“Ooh, a private car, huh?”
He laughed as he held the door for her and then climbed inside. “Hey, I get some perks, ya know.”
The car drove them to Sparks, one of his favorite steakhouses.
“I love the food here,” Carolina said as Drew helped her out of the car.
They were seated right away and presented with a wine list.
“Wine?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t. I have so much work to do.”
“Think how relaxed you’ll be and able to work after you have a nice meal and some wine.”
She cocked a brow. “I think you’re full of it. A full stomach and wine and all I’ll want to do is climb into bed and fall asleep.”
“Then think how productive you’ll be tomorrow after some rest.”
She laughed. “You might be right about that. I’ve been working nonstop for months.”
“You needed a night off, then. Too much work muddles the brain cells and you can’t think clearly.”
“I did get some sketches drawn during your game.”
“Yeah? Can I see them?”
He read the hesitation on her face.
“Oh. I don’t know.”
“Are they secret sketches?”
“Not really. They’re just difficult to explain.”
He gave her a look. “So, you think I’m an idiot.”
“I didn’t say that.”
He held out his hand. “Then let me see them.”
“Fine.” She dug her sketchbook out of her bag and flipped to a page, then handed it to him.
He looked at them, stunned by her talent as he reviewed the pages she’d drawn of him and some of the other players. She’d caught everything about the game and the players. The speed, the intensity in their expressions. He could feel the action and the emotion on these pages. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Wow, Carolina. These are really good. I had no idea you had talent like this.”
He saw the blush creep across her cheeks as he handed the sketchbook back to her.
“I had to do them fast. They’re just messy drawings.”
“No, they’re . . . amazing. You captured the fast pace and passion of hockey like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“What I really wanted to do was show how you all move.”
“I’d say you did that perfectly.”
Their waiter showed up. Carolina deferred, so Drew ordered a bottle of wine for them.
“What’s your intent in doing the drawings? Obviously you’re not looking to design hockey uniforms.”
She let out a short laugh. “Uh, no. But I am thinking about sports when I design for men. How to take movement into consideration. And comfort. Men don’t like to feel restricted or weighed down in clothing. You want to feel comfortable, even in”—she looked around and leaned forward—“underwear.”
“So you’re going to create a line of men’s underwear, too?”
“Yes.” Her lips tipped upward at the corners. “How do you feel about modeling underwear?”
He shrugged. “I feel fine about it, but how do you know I’ve got the goods to do it? Maybe you want to use some dude who does that for a living.”
“I suppose you have a point. I’d have to . . . see your body again.”
He smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look. You’re going to have to be a professional about this if we’re going to work together.”
“Hey, I can get naked and not think about having sex with you. Maybe.”
“Can you?”
“I’m not twelve, babe.”
“Or twenty-two, drunk, and unable to remember my name?”
He leveled a not-quite-happy look at her. “I knew exactly who I was sleeping with that night.”
“Maybe you did. It was the day after you forgot who I was.”
“Yeah, I screwed up big-time that night, and the day after. I could give you a lifetime of I’m sorry’s, but that can’t change what happened or the fact I treated you like shit afterward. But I’ll still say it, as many times as you need to hear it—I’m sorry, Carolina.”
FOUR
THEIR WAITER BROUGHT THE WINE, AND TOOK THEIR food order, so Carolina didn’t have time to respond to Drew’s apology. Probably a good thing, since she had no idea what to say to him.
She’d waited years for that apology, had played over and over in her head what she’d say to him if he ever said he was sorry.
She’d planned to throw his apology back in his face. She’d tell him she’d cried over and over again for months after he walked out on her and never called her. She’d felt worthless and used and in love with someone who obviously felt nothing for her.
But that was the twenty-year-old, brokenhearted Carolina who’d had all those feelings.
Drew had never once made any promises to her that night, and all her feelings had been just that—her feelings—the ones of a very young girl who’d wrapped all her hopes and dreams in fantasy, none of which had been his fault. She’d known he was leaving campus, that he had a promising career ahead of him with a hockey team. Instead, she’d manufactured some love story in her head that had nothing to do with reality.
Which, again, hadn’t been his fault at all. It had taken her a long time to come to grips with that. But she’d moved on, finished college, and had become an adult. She’d had other relationships and had shoved Drew into a drawer of the past.
Sometimes love taught very painful lessons, but she’d long ago decided she wasn’t equipped for that whole falling in love thing.