Mature The Ice, The Game, The Touch

Winter snow flying meant Amelia fled south. She usually headed right for the southern tip of Florida, but since the winter had started so mildly this year, she decided to take her time, touring along the East Coast. She started by flying from her hometown of Winnipeg to Fredericton, in New Brunswick. She joined a bus tour there that would take her down through Maine and straight on to New York. From there she'd probably travel by train south to Washington D.C. The weather along the coast could be just as vicious as Winnipeg's at times but it didn't seem to happen as quickly.

Somehow, she didn't mind the weather so much when she was traveling, seeing the sites and writing wherever and whenever she chose to. Her sole companion on these southern trips was her laptop and she was content.

So what if she'd had to leave her husband of five years in order to find contentment? Even if that 'contentment' wasn't quite what she thought she'd be feeling at nearly thirty years of age. She definitely hadn't thought she'd be alone while feeling it. Being alone wasn't really a concern either. She just enjoyed the time she had to herself; time to write, to read and just to be quiet at times.

Then there were times when her libido would rear it's head and make it absolutely impossible to think of anything else. Times like those, she wished she was in her hometown where she had at least had a couple men she could call to help with her... needs.

For now, it was a dull sensation in the back of her mind as she watched the landscape of Maine rush past outside the bus window. In a short while she'd be into New Hampshire. She was tossing around the idea of just catching a flight straight to New York from there. At least in that big city she could distract herself from her sudden thoughts of loneliness.

Is it even loneliness? she wondered and sighed, turning her face away from the rainy landscape outside the bus. Maybe I'm just tired of traveling.

She often thought about just settling down in one of the many places she loved to visit. Somewhere far enough away from Winnipeg that she wouldn't be constantly reminded of her failed marriage. Then she became frustrated that she still let that episode in her life dictate so much of what she did now.

"Stop it, Amelia," she muttered to herself.

She pushed it out of her mind and tried not to let it cloud the trip she was on now. The eighty-three year old woman next to her jerked in her sleep and started snoring against Amelia's shoulder. Grimacing, Amelia edged herself away from the older woman and sighed, trying to get comfortable.

It was a hard game. By the time it ended, he never wanted to see or touch his skates again. Then as soon as he walked away from the arena, he longed to get back on the ice and figure out what he'd done wrong and how to improve it.

The entire time he was away from the ice he thought about the ice. The entire time he was on the ice, he thought about the game and how to win. The other guys on the team razzed him about how his mind was constantly on hockey, especially when he woke up on the bus or on the plane shouting something about passing or shooting the puck.

He didn't care what anyone thought. He lived hockey and it was OK.

Except for the times he was feeling lusty.

He cringed as they sat in waiting area of the airport and glanced around to see if anyone was looking in his direction. His cheeks flushed and he berated himself silently for even thinking something like that. Men like him didn't think of sex in terms like 'lusty.' Besides the guys harassing him about him talking in his sleep, they also harassed him about his constant reading. What they didn't know was that he read books and magazines in an endless effort to keep his mind from wandering aimlessly. It would lead him to think about women.

He couldn't afford those kinds of distractions. Not when this was the year. This was the year the team was going to make it to the playoffs and the finals. In less than ten months, he'd be hoisting the Stanley Cup over his head as the fans screamed in excitement.

Maybe he was selfish to think of it that way, but he honestly didn't care. He shifted in the tiny uncomfortable airport seat and adjusted the magazine in his hand. At the moment he wasn't reading but it kept his mind occupied. He seemed to need it since his mind was currently wandering off on lusty thoughts.

He kicked himself mentally and slapped the magazine down on his lip with a frustrated sigh. The player sitting across from him glanced up and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You all right Sean?" he asked with a smirk.

"I'm fine," Sean replied, not meeting the other man's eyes.

Chuckling, his teammate shifted in his seat. "At least you didn't yell at me to pass you the puck," he commented, turning his attention back to the newspaper he was holding.

"Bite me, Flower," Sean snapped and stood up.

He needed to go for a walk. Yes, that would help. A walk around the strangely quiet airport would clear his mind.

Oh wow, she's cute, he thought after a minute as he passed by a petite brunette. He slowed his pace and turned casually to watch as she strolled by. Then he spotted the child running after her, crying for his mother.

As Sean looked on, the woman turned and held a hand out, a patient smile on her face, as the child hurried to catch up. Thumb in mouth, the boy clutched her hand and trailed after her as she continued through the airport.

Sighing, Sean shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and turned to keep strolling. He spotted more good-looking women, some alone, some with husbands or boyfriends and while he felt that familiar twinge, he didn't feel drawn to them. It always seemed to be this way. He'd feel the physical urges and seek out a woman only to feel like something was always missing. He'd enjoy himself, that was certain, and the women were generally pleased to be with a professional hockey player. However, after the first few hook-ups of that sort, he didn't find it so enthralling as he once had.

He hated to admit it to himself, mostly because it was such a cliche, but he truly wanted to find someone who didn't think of him as a hockey player first. He also knew what a contradiction that was, since his entire life revolved around the game.

Maybe that's why, he thought. I've been focusing so much on the game so that I don't have to think about women.

Then he thought, Great, something else for the guys to give me a hard time about.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and started to make his way back to the waiting area outside the team's departure gate.

New York was windy and kind of cloudy but Amelia was content to sit in the Starbucks and watching the people walk by on the street outside. She smiled as a particularly ornery teenager argued with her mother over something. The teenager effectively ended the conversation by walking away and the mother shook her head, throwing her hands up in the air before striding after the girl.

Shaking her own head, Amelia lifted her mug and sipped her latte. Then she breathed deeply, trying to refocus her attention on the computer screen before her. The words blurred and she sighed before reaching up to close the laptop. Then she just sat back in her seat and resigned herself to some serious people watching. Sometimes all it took was a little distraction to get her head back into whatever story she was working on.

Occasionally, the distractions proved to be too much. Like the tall, dark-haired, incredibly built man who walked into the coffee shop.

Yes, she thought, unaware that she was holding her breath. He is most definitely distracting.

She watched, unabashed as he walked up to the counter and smiled at the young woman working the till.

He was tall, probably just under six feet, and his shoulders were nice and wide. Although he was dressed casually, it was far from sloppy; well-fitting jeans and a white button-up shirt. He wore a fitted dark suede jacket and black shoes. His hair was very dark, almost black, and was cut fairly short, though Amelia could see the ends curling just over the collar of his shirt. He looked young, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, and his broad grin as he accepted his drink at the end of the counter made him look even younger.

Amelia felt like a pervert, ogling the younger man so blatantly. She felt even more embarrassed when he turned around and met her gaze. His eyes were a bright hazel color and she was altogether entranced when he smiled at her. Then he took a step towards her and she felt her face heat up.

Oh God, is he coming over here? she wondered and was still unable to look away.

"Hello," he said as he stopped next to her table.

"Hi," she managed to murmur in response.

"Is someone sitting here?" he asked, pointing at the empty chair across the table from her.

She shook her head mutely. His smile widened.

Lord help her, he was incredibly good-looking.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" he asked. "It's kind of crowded in here."

Amelia lifted an eyebrow at him before tearing her gaze away from his face and glancing around the coffee shop. There were two other patrons sitting across the shop at another table and the three employees behind the counter. That was it.

"Of course," Amelia replied. "I would hate to leave you standing there when I have a perfectly good seat right across from me."

He nodded in agreement and pulled the seat out so he could sit down. "I'm Sean." He stuck his hand out over the table between them. "Sean Carson."

"I'm Amelia Clarke," she replied, shaking his hand and probably enjoying just a little too much the way his larger hand wrapped firmly around her smaller one. It distracted her from his name, which, for some reason, sounded vaguely familiar.

"Nice to meet you Amelia," he said, giving her hand the subtlest of squeezes before pulling away. "So what has brought you to this Starbucks today?"

"Work," she replied and laid her hand over the laptop sitting on the table.

"Oh, am I interrupting?"he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"No, not at all," she assured him with a smile. Could you be any cuter? she added silently. "I was just taking a break."

"Good. What do you do that allows you to work in a Starbucks on a Tuesday morning?"

"I'm a writer," she replied and was surprised to see his smile falter. All of a sudden, he seemed to withdraw.

"A reporter?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"No, I write books."

"Really? I don't think I'm familiar with your work."

She chuckled. "Well, you wouldn't be. I write under a pseudonym."

He grinned and didn't say anything. Then he laughed. "You're not going to tell me what that name might be, are you?"

She shook her head without speaking.

"I can't do anything to convince you?" he asked, leaning forward and looking into her eyes with such an earnest expression on his face that she felt a long forgotten flutter in her chest. Her mouth went dry.

"I don't... I don't think we know each other well enough for that," she replied.

"I guess we'll just have to sit here until one of us shares enough about themselves to change that, won't we?" He sat back in his chair, sipping his drink.

Amelia felt her face heating up again and covered her smile with a hand. Across from her, Sean chuckled as he drank more of his coffee.

"All right," she said at length, meeting his gaze again. "I'll start. I don't live here. I'm from Winnipeg and I just travel south for the winter."

His dark eyebrows lifted and he grinned. "Most people go a little further south than New York."

She laughed and nodded. "I intend to. I'm just taking my time getting there."

"Sounds great. It must be nice that your work allows you to travel."

"It is. I love the change of scenery."

"And people?"

"People?" She didn't understand.

"Yeah, do you enjoy changing the people in your life around too?" he asked and then cringed. "That... didn't come out the way I meant it."

Amelia smiled and waited for him to clarify but she was pretty sure she knew what he meant. Even though she knew he didn't mean to hurt her feelings, his words still stung; mostly because they were true. She did travel to change the people she saw. It was cold, but there it was.

"I just meant... you like to travel and meet new people," Sean went on, his youthful face pink in the cheeks.

"I do like meeting new people," she agreed. "Even young men who enjoy chatting up old women in coffee shops."

Her words drew a laugh from him and she felt her heart patter at the sight of his grin. He looked so much younger when he smiled like that.

"You're not an old woman, Amelia," he said.

"I'm older than you," she insisted with a smile and raised eyebrows.

"No, you can't be older than... twenty-three, twenty-five, tops."

Amelia felt her face flush hot at his words and stared into his face, trying to determine if he was teasing her. Instead, his face looked more than earnest. "Well, now I can't tell you how old I really am," she replied quietly, looking away from his handsome face.

"Why not?" he asked. "Would it help if I told you how old I am?"

Laughing, Amelia shook her head and moved on her seat, swinging her legs out from under the table. She'd been there long enough and if she stayed any longer, she might end up believing that Sean was more interested than he truly was. He watched her for a second and then shot to his feet, a hand reaching towards her.

"You're not leaving?" he said. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable."

"I should get back to my hotel," she replied. "My flight leaves tonight."

"Oh, you're not even going to be in New York tomorrow?" His tone sounded almost disappointed to her and she paused in the motions of packing up her laptop to look at him. He flushed under her gaze and smiled shyly.

"It was very nice to meet you, Sean," she said honestly. "Maybe we'll run into each other again."

He nodded and then a slow grin spread across his face. "Maybe we will."

She blinked at the change that came over his face as he spoke. A sly look had replaced the shy one and his eyes were bright, while that grin continued to captivate her.

She needed to get the hell out of there.

"I should go," she murmured and swept her belongings into her arms. She walked away from the table, calling a brief 'good-bye' over her shoulder.

All the way back to the hotel, she couldn't get his smile and his hazel eyes - fringed with all those thick, dark lashes - out of her mind.

It was a wonder Sean could even lace up his skates that night. His mind was filled with details from his encounter in Starbucks earlier that day. He didn't often go out or wander from the team when they were in different cities, but they'd all been a little too rambunctious for him to deal with that day. So he'd gone for a walk and ended up at the coffee shop.

Where he'd met Amelia.

A woman who looked no more than a year or two older than him but who insisted she was much older. He'd never even discovered what her real age was before she'd bolted. And she had bolted. That thought made him cringe. He'd never had a woman run from him. From a young age he'd been a star and everyone knew it, women more than men.

"Carson!" the coach yelled at him. "Get your ass in gear!"

He nodded and pulled the laces tight before standing up. He yanked the familiar jersey over his head with the white 'C' sewn into the left shoulder and hustled out of the locker room after the other stragglers.

The game went well and he rediscovered his focus on the ice. It was all about the game and the ice, and the touch of the puck against his stick. It was the blood thrumming in his veins and the breath rushing from his lungs. His legs burned by the end of the game and his voice was hoarse from hollering at every player.

Still, after all that, all he saw when he went to sleep that night was the beautiful blush on Amelia's cheeks and her shy smile.

Their next stop was Raleigh, North Carolina, and he found himself again walking alone away from the hotel. He had the brief urge to call home just to chat with his mom and dad, but he knew it would worry his mom and he didn't want to do that. So he sucked it up and wandered the streets near the hotel and the RBC Center.

Then he spotted a Starbucks, right across the street from where he paused to wait for a cross walk.

A smile bloomed on his face and he wallowed for a few seconds in his all too brief memories of Amelia. He'd not seen her since he'd met her, of course, but his dreams had been riddled with images of her and the very explicit things he wanted to do to her.

Still grinning like an idiot, he wandered across the road and into the Starbucks. Without meaning to, his eyes scanned the shop and saw no sign of her smiling face. With a sigh, he stood in line and waited patiently for his turn at the till.

The girl behind the counter recognized him and, while she didn't say anything, he saw the change come over her. She flushed and averted her eyes, her hand trembling as she handed his change back to him. Although he was surprised she didn't even ask for an autograph, he moved to head for the end of the counter.

As he turned, he ran right into the next person in line.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he exclaimed, putting his hands out to steady the woman.

"It's all right," she replied and their eyes met.

"Amelia!" he said, shocked.

"Sean," she replied, sounding equally as surprised. "What a surprise."

"Yeah, huge surprise," he agreed and then grinned. "I can't believe you're here."

She shook her head and laughed. "Neither can I."

"Let me buy you a drink," he burst out and whirled around to the counter, saying Amelia's drink was on him.

"No, you don't have to do that," she said, waving a hand and blushing that most attractive shade of pink again.

"Please, I drove you away last time. The least I can do is buy you a coffee to make up for it."

She relented and asked for a latte. Then they both moved down to the end of the counter and waited in awkward silence for their drinks. Sean spotted the laptop case over her shoulder and figured she was here to work again.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked as they picked up their drinks.

"Join me?" she replied, not quite meeting his eyes.

Sean grinned. She knew exactly what he meant and was trying to be coy. It was compelling and he wasn't going to just let her walk away without learning more about her; maybe even getting her phone number, too.

"Yeah, while you work," he said, indicating her laptop case with one hand. "I was going to just sit and read a newspaper. It would be nice to sit with someone."

She met his eyes, looking skeptical. She was gorgeous and the look in her eyes, even hesitant as she was, was enough to send the blood in his body dancing around to a single destination. He shifted from one foot to another, hoping he wasn't too obvious.

He was old enough to not be getting hard-ons in public.

There was something about Amelia though... her rich, deep auburn hair just sweeping her shoulders and her dark, sparkling green eyes turned him into a raging mound of hormones. She was shorter than him, her head coming to just under his chin, and she was dressed plainly in jeans and a deep teal-colored shirt with some fancy detailing around the collar. All together, she had drawn him right in and he ached to get to know her better.

"I won't disturb you, I promise," he added when she still didn't say anything.

She smiled then and his heart jumped within his chest. "All right," she relented. Without another word, she turned and headed to a small table in a corner of the shop.

Grabbing a newspaper from the basket, Sean hurried after her, smiling when she looked up at him and she set her laptop on the table. She scowled benignly at him, unable to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up in a smile. Sean grinned at her and sat down, noisily opening the newspaper. He held it up between them, blocking her from view. After a couple minutes, he turned one corner down to glance at her and caught her looking at him. Her eyes darted away as color filled her cheeks. Chuckling, Sean resumed his perusal of the newspaper.

Except he wasn't actually reading it. He shifted his position so that he looked like he was still reading the paper but he could also view Amelia from the corner of his eye. The tapping of her fingers over the keys of her laptop was almost hypnotic and she had the most attractive wrinkle between her brows as she wrote. Occasionally, she'd pause and chew on a thumbnail as her eyes scanned what she'd written. Then she'd resume with renewed fervor, typing away like mad.

After both their drinks were finished, Sean decided he could take a chance by putting his newspaper down. Amelia's typing had slowed considerably over the past few minutes and he suspected she was ready for a break.

"May I interrupt?" he asked quietly and smiled when she glanced up from her screen, an open look on her face.

"You pretty much have, haven't you?" she asked wryly.

He chuckled and cursed himself for the color rising in his face. "If you're determined to finish what you're working on, I'll leave you alone," he replied.

With a sigh, she closed her computer. She reached for her coffee cup and frowned when it came up empty in her hand.

"You want another?" he asked, jumping eagerly to his feet.

"You don't have to buy me another coffee," she said but he was already gone, hurrying to the counter to order them both another round.

When he returned to the table, he found her smiling up at him and gratefully accepting the new latte. As she reached for the cup, her fingers closed over his and he very nearly dropped the hot drink all over her. Still, she smiled and accepted the drink.

"So I have to assume since you don't have any research books around you, you must write fiction," Sean said.

"You assume correctly," she confirmed.

"You still won't tell me what your pen name is?"

"Nope," she said and shook her head for emphasis. Then her eyes narrowed. His groin tightened. "And I assume since you're here, not in New York, you must also travel for your work." She paused, giving him a considering look. "Either that, or you're stalking me."

He laughed and shook his head. "Work. I travel for work."

"Well, that's a relief. I think," she added in a murmured voice.

Sean blinked and wondered if he'd imagined her words. He shook his head and leaned forward on the table, bringing their faces as close together as he dared. "Do you honestly have no idea who I am?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She stared at him, her eyes widening as she shook her head. "You said your name is Sean Carson."

"And I travel for... work," he said, putting extra emphasis on the last word.

She smiled and leaned even closer to him. "Are you a rock star?" she asked in his same quiet tone.

He stifled a groan at the sound of her voice, so low and husky. They sat so close together that he felt her breath stir against his face. Swallowing hard, he shook his head at her question. "Not a rock star," he replied, his voice sounding thick to his own ears.

"Hmm," she made a noise of consideration, her bright green eyes flashing over his face. "An underwear model?"

A burst of laughter escaped him and he shook his head, delighted that she was even thinking of him in underwear. He crushed his immediate urge to ask her if she wanted him to model underwear.

She'd probably bolt again.

"Not a model," he told her.

"Then I'm stumped." She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "You must be a stalker."

He shook his head. "Not a stalker." He eyed her speculatively, wondering if she was teasing him. It had been years since he'd met someone who didn't know who he was, especially someone from Canada. He was torn between annoyance and a feeling of hope. Maybe he'd finally met someone who didn't care what he did for a living. Maybe she was someone who wouldn't play games with him.

A beeping sounded from his jacket pocket and he jumped, startled out of his silent contemplation. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and read the display. It was his alarm going off, letting him know that he had to get to the rink for practice.

"I'm afraid it's my turn to leave this time," he said, truly reluctant to leave.

"Well, it was great running into you again, Sean, with the mysterious career," Amelia said with a smile. "Thank you for buying my drinks."

"Anytime, Amelia," he replied with a smile. A thought occurred to him. "Do you like hockey?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm from Winnipeg. It's pretty much written into my DNA."

Grinning, he slipped his hand inside his jacket and pulled out the VIP passes the players were given to hand out to family and friends for games. "I'm going to be at the RBC Center tonight. Take this and you can come for the game."

Her eyes widened and she grinned. "Really? That sounds great!" she exclaimed, gladly taking the pass from him. "It's been ages since I've seen a live game."

"Well, I hope I'll see you there," he said, feeling his heart speed up at the prospect of seeing her again so soon.

"Who are they playing tonight anyway?" she asked before he turned to go.

He told her the answer nonchalantly and watched her face for her reaction.

She was staring at the ticket as he spoke. Then something passed across her face and she blinked, tilting her head back to look up at him. He grinned and walked off with a brief wave.

"See you there!" he called over his shoulder.

Amelia wandered back to her hotel a few hours later, still in a state of shock. She went back and forth between shock and feeling like a complete idiot. He must think she was the dimmest woman in the country.

He was Sean Carson. The Sean Carson. Young hockey phenomenon from Canada's east coast. And she'd called him a stalker.

She groaned and slapped a hand to her forehead as she let herself back into her hotel room. She threw her purse on the bed and set her laptop case on the desk before sitting down in the chair. She pulled the VIP pass out of her pocket and stared at it.

Should I go? she wondered, fingering the lettering on the pass.

She shook her head as she tossed the pass onto the desk and wandered over to the window. Feeling like a fool for not knowing immediately who Sean was, she stared out the window and watched the traffic move in the streets below.

Growing up she'd lived and breathed hockey, watching game after game with her father and older brother. She'd gone to every one of her brother's games and idolized the stars like the Hulls, Mark Messier and Wayne Gretzky. As she'd grown into a teenage girl, she'd lost interest; but she'd never stopped enjoying live games. She'd lost track of the players were and couldn't tell anyone who the current hotshots were.

Except for Sean Carson. Everyone knew who Sean Carson was.

Apparently she just couldn't pick him out of a crowd.

Shaking her head, she walked back across the room and into the washroom, deciding that a long shower might clear her head. The lather and steam in the shower did help and she came to a decision easily.

Sean was definitely too young for her, that much was apparent.

Just not young enough to keep her from going to the game that night.

Hey, live hockey was live hockey and a true Canadian girl wasn't going to pass up a VIP pass.

She tried to remain calm but her heart was pounding hard enough to almost make her throw up. Butterflies had fled her stomach, leaving stampeding rhinos in their place. Still she went, handing over the VIP pass and following as she was shown to a private box. There were others there but none of them even spared her a glance as she wandered in. She scanned the little room before she walked down the few steps to sit out front of the box itself.

A short while later, the teams took to the ice and she was on the edge of her seat for the rest of the night.

Live hockey was like nothing else. Nothing came close to the sounds of the skates slicing over the ice, the shudder when a player was thrown against the boards, and the thunderous applause with every goal. Amelia was not immune to the draw of the ice and the thrill of the game. Nor was she oblivious to the fact that Sean Carson was truly gifted. He had the skill, the touch and he was absolute magic to watch.

At the end of the game, Amelia wasn't even certain who won. All she knew was that she was exhausted and her heart was ready to explode from the excitement.

As she rose to leave the box, one of the other guests stopped her with a light hand on her arm.

"You're not leaving are you?" the woman asked with a friendly smile.

"I was going to," Amelia replied with a puzzled smile of her own. "The game is over."

"Yeah, but the players sometimes come up to sign autographs and meet people after the game," the woman explained. "You wouldn't want to miss out on that."

Amelia smiled and nodded. "No, I wouldn't want to miss that," she murmured and moved to sit down on one of the bar stools that lined the box opening that faced the ice.

She watched as the arena gradually emptied and the Zamboni eased onto the ice. Watching the Zamboni was mesmerizing, and Amelia's mind wandered so far that she didn't hear the voices rise behind her.

"Amelia," a deep voice spoke at her elbow a few minutes later, startling her so badly that she tipped sideways off the stool.

She would have fallen right off if strong arms hadn't caught her and resettled her. Blushing furiously, Amelia turned her head and grinned before she could stop herself. "Sean," she breathed his name. "Great game."

He was grinning at her and his face was flushed from the physical exertion. His hair was damp and curled at the ends but he was wearing a baseball cap that covered most of it. His eyes twinkled at her and she felt herself leaning forward, resting some of her weight in his arms.

"I'm so glad you came," he told her, still speaking in a low voice.

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity to go to a live hockey game," she replied. "Especially not with seats like these."

"Of course not," he said, not moving or taking his arms from where he held her. He had one arm around her waist and the other palm rested against her thigh, just above her knee. "A good Canadian girl would never say 'no' to a hockey game."

"I just wish I'd known you'd be playing," she said, hoping she sounded coy and not like the idiot she'd felt like earlier. "I'd have shouted something more imaginative when you got that penalty."

He groaned and shook his head. "I'm glad you didn't," he said. "I heard enough from Coach about it after."

Amelia laughed and nodded. "I'll bet you did."

They fell silent then and just looked at each other. Amelia glanced around the small room after a moment, taking note of the other freshly showered players and the people who'd watched the game from the box.

"You must think I'm an idiot," Amelia murmured, unable to keep from saying anything.

"Why?"

"Because I had no idea who you were," she said and peeked at his face before looking away again. "Everyone knows who you are."

"I don't think you're an idiot," he replied. "I thought it was surprising that you didn't recognize me but it didn't matter. If anything, I liked that about you."

Laughing, Amelia lifted one hand and pressed a palm to her cheek, feeling the warmth there.

"I like a lot about you," he added in a softer voice, making Amelia's entire body heat up to the point that she feared she might explode.

"You don't even know me," she replied, her voice trembling.

"And you don't know me," he said with a smile. "That's why I asked you to come to the game. I'd like to get to know you better."

Sighing, Amelia shook her head. "I'm only in Raleigh for two days."

"That's fine," he replied with a shrug and moved closer a second later. "I'm only in Raleigh for tonight."

Amelia looked up at his face and smirked. "I understand now," she said. "You want to 'get to know me.'" She said that last with her fingers crooked in the air as quotations.

He frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

As Amelia looked at him, she wondered if he was telling the truth. Maybe his intentions for asking her here tonight had been honorable. Then she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head to look. Another player on Sean's team was standing near the bar with his arms wrapped around a buxom woman. The woman was holding onto the player's arms and grinning up at him as the his hands moved swiftly down her body until he cupped her backside.

Flushing, Amelia looked away and jumped to her feet, escaping Sean's grasp at the same time. "I should go," she muttered.

"Wait, we've hardly had a chance to talk," Sean said, following as she made her way to the doorway.

"Thank you for inviting me to the game," Amelia said, not meeting his eyes. She would have run down the corridor away from him then but his hand closed around her arm, stopping her.

"Please, tell me what I've done to upset you, Amelia," he said, his voice low.

"You haven't done anything, Sean," Amelia replied in a soft voice. "I just... it's late. I feel... tired. I should go."

"When can I see you again?" he asked, not releasing her.

"Sean, come on," Amelia stopped pulling away and turned to face him. "We both know what this was going to be and I just can't bring myself to do even that. Neither one of us live here and any chance to get to know each other would be... complicated by our jobs."

"You can go wherever you want to work," he replied quickly. "You told me that yourself."

"Yes, and you can't. So what? Should I just follow you around like some... groupie? Like a puck bunny?" she asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

He pulled back, looking as though she'd slapped him. "I don't think that."

Amelia stared up at his stricken face and thought again how young he looked. "I want to go, Sean. Please let me go."

He released her but she didn't turn and run off like she'd intended.

"Can I at least have your number?" he asked quietly.

"I don't have a phone," she replied.

He winced and Amelia wondered if he thought she was lying to let him down easy. Feeling bad for that, she stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on his forearm, feeling her heart skip a bit when she felt the hard muscle flex beneath his shirt. She opened her mouth to say something, to apologize, but she didn't get the chance.

He pulled her close, dropping his head and kissing her hard on the lips. She was caught by surprise and he took complete advantage of catching her unawares with her mouth open. His tongue slid easily inside her mouth and when he brushed against her tongue, she made a small sound; whether a protest or further invitation, she wasn't sure. His arms tightened around her, drawing their bodies together and Amelia clutched at his shoulders, feeling the ground tilt beneath her feet.

His kiss was fierce, his lips firm on hers and his tongue hot and slick in her mouth. His hands on her back were unyielding but soft, his fingers pressing into her and bending her against his body. She kissed him back, loving how he tasted, how his lips moved over hers. She could kiss him all night, and found herself wondering if he had the same intensity in the bedroom that he had on the ice.

As suddenly as he'd kissed her, he drew back, allowing them both to catch their breath. They were both breathing hard, which made Amelia feel somewhat better about her own reaction to the kiss.

"I want to see you again, Amelia," he told her, his voice deep and husky.

"I... I'm..." Amelia stammered and shook her head. "Sean, I don't..."

He released her abruptly, stepping back and leaving her feeling strangely lost for a second. "I understand," he said.

"Sean, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just don't think it'd be a good idea."

"Because you thought I wanted you as a puck bunny?" he asked with a scowl and they both knew he meant something else with those words.

"And I'm too old for you," she added. "You're twenty-one, Sean, and I... I'm..." her voice trailed off and she found herself unable to label just how much older than him she was.

"I don't care about that," Sean insisted, reaching for her again.

But Amelia wasn't going to be caught off-guard again. She stepped back out of his reach and gave him a small smile. "Thank you for inviting me here tonight, Sean. Good night." With that she turned, hurrying away before he could stop her.

If he touched her again or, God help her, kissed her again, she wouldn't be able to walk away.

The rest of his time on the road felt strange to Sean. He played the game and they won some, lost a few, and he relaxed with the other guys in their downtime. At night, he had the most difficult time getting to sleep and, even when he did get some rest, it was riddled with vivid dreams of Amelia. The last night the team was on the road before heading back to their hometown, he lay awake long after his roommate had fallen asleep, thinking of Amelia.

When he'd kissed her after the game in Raleigh, he'd been ready to press her up against the wall that moment. The way she'd responded to his kiss, how she'd practically melted in his arms, it was enough to make him groan out loud and roll over to press his face into the pillow. All he wanted was another chance to kiss her, to hold her close. She had invaded his entire being. She'd been right when she'd said they weren't likely to see each other again. He didn't even know where she'd gone after leaving Raleigh. All he knew was that she was eventually going to end up in Florida.

The days wore on and he tried to put her out of his mind. He tried to focus all his attention on the game. Coach and the other players noticed and some commented on his new attitude. For the most part, his sour looks and self-inflicted solitude off the ice kept the others away. It left him free to dwell on Amelia, their brief meetings and that single, passionate kiss they'd shared.

In spite of himself, Sean visited every Starbucks he saw; in his hometown and on the road. He told himself that there was no reason to alter his regular habits because of her, but if he was being honest, he would admit that he looked for Amelia in every Starbucks. In four weeks, he didn't see her anywhere.

He would have given up all hope except that their next trip away from home took them to Florida for a few days. He knew he shouldn't have any hope of seeing Amelia; Florida was a big state and if he had to guess, he'd say she'd probably be on the beaches at the South tip. Still, on their first morning in Tampa, he wandered away from the hotel and went in search of any Starbucks he could find.

He was on his third one and was standing out front of the coffee shop, wondering if he should just give up altogether, when he spotted a familiar dark head within. Without another thought, he hurried inside and turned to face the person he'd viewed from outside.

It wasn't Amelia. It was some other nice-looking woman but to Sean, every woman paled in comparison to Amelia.

With a sigh, he turned and got into line. Maybe a strong coffee would help to get his mind off of her. Then he smirked and laughed at himself. He'd need something a hell of a lot stronger than coffee to feel better and Coach probably wouldn't appreciate his captain getting loaded in the middle of the day.​