3

      CLAIRE PACED in front of Trish. “You let me go through that whole shoot with powdered sugar on my face!”

      “You told him I needed a fiancé?” Trish responded. She darted her head around to see if they were being overheard. She had all the subtlety of a silent film star. The closest person was Elaine. She was over by the bench, talking with the straggly bearded techie. He somehow didn’t seem her type. “Jason probably thinks I’m pathetic.”

      “Trust me. He doesn’t think you’re pathetic.” Claire remembered the appreciative look Jason had shown Trish as they got off the ice. Trish, who was looking so together, so sleek. While she, Claire, had a drippy nose and freezing, cramped toes. Sniffling and hobbling—she sounded like two of the Seven Dwarfs. And that’s when she remembered she still had on the skates.

      She sat and began yanking them off. “I don’t know why you think anyone would think you’re pathetic. You weren’t the one tripping over her own two feet on the ice, all the while having this white glob on your face. Why didn’t you tell me?” Claire yanked off the second skate and looked around for her boots.

      Trish crossed her arms. “Why so touchy about a little bit of sugar on your face? Frankly, I didn’t even notice.”

      Claire found one work boot and pulled it on. She didn’t bother to lace it up. “That’s because your eyes were elsewhere.” Claire got on her hands and knees and started scouting under the bench for her other boot.

      “He is rather attractive, isn’t he? One could do far worse in the fiancé category. In fact, it might be something worth contemplating seriously—in a very preliminary stage, of course.”

      Claire heard the flirtatious lilt to Trish’s voice as she scrounged around on the rubber flooring for her lost boot. Her hand touched something sticky. She didn’t want to think about the possibilities.

      “So what did he say?”

      “About what?” In the dank, dark recesses under the first row of permanent seating, Claire located her boot. It was pushed against the cement riser.

      “You know, about pretending to be my fiancé at the wedding?” Trish must have bent down because her voice was louder.

      Claire shimmied out backward, deciding the safest route out was the same way she’d come in. She dragged the boot behind her. “We never got that far. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Her derriere emerged from the deep abyss.

      “Ask me what?”

      Claire banged the back of her head on the bottom of a metal seat. She dropped her boot and it tumbled into the great netherworld of discarded chewing gum and Raisinets. No doubt Jason was looking down at her rear end as she hesitated on all fours. She could crawl back under. But then there was that mysterious sticky goo.

      “You need a hand?” Jason’s voice was louder, nearer. Much nearer.

      In the shadowy darkness under the seats, Claire sensed immediately that he had joined her. She felt the ripples of energy that emanated from his body. If only he’d thought to bring a flashlight. “No need to bother. I’m fine, thank you.”

      “The lady doth protest too much.”

      “And the jock knows a literary line or two. I’m impressed. But truly, I wouldn’t advise scrounging around here unless you’ve had a recent tetanus shot. Besides, I’m just looking for my boot. I had it a minute ago and I seem to have lost it again.” Claire groped with her hand. She landed on something. It definitely wasn’t sticky. And it definitely wasn’t her boot.

      It was large. It was strong. Sinews ridged the skin. Knuckles defined the contours. Fingers slightly curled; nails blunt cut. And there wasn’t the hint of a wedding ring. It was power at rest. But it hardly made Claire feel restful.

      “Whoops, sorry about that.” Claire turned her head.

      “Don’t be. It could happen to anyone.” In the darkness he moved his head toward hers. He shifted his hand.

      His movement caused Claire to realize that her hand was still on his. “Oh, sorry.” She started to pull it away, but he switched grips, holding her fingers lightly.

      The sudden dizziness enveloping her head had to be due to the awkward position she was in, Claire told herself. She cleared her throat, if not her brain functions. “I think my boot may be over by your hand.”

      She leaned awkwardly in that direction. And felt her mouth brush his cheek.

      Jason turned. His lips accidentally touched hers.

      His lips pressed lightly. Maybe not an accident? It was brief. Lips ever so slightly parted. Warm breaths and tumbling heartbeats mixing.

      And it was the most mind-numbing experience of Claire’s life. And it was happening under the seat of a hockey rink.

      “You guys all right down there?”

      Trish’s voice penetrated the haze of emotions that engulfed Claire. She felt Jason’s hand tighten briefly before he let go.

      “No problem. We were just searching for Claire’s boot. I think I found it.” He searched with his other hand, passing it to Claire.

      She was surprised she could still mumble thanks. Backing out on her hands and knees, she slowly rose.

      “Find something interesting down there?” Trish rested one hand on her hip.

      Claire shivered. “You don’t want to know.” She dropped her boot to the ground and worked it on with her toes. Jason got to his feet, as well. He raked his hand through his thick hair.

      “Well, come now,” Trish announced. “Enough of this hide-and-seek. Vernon has agreed to leave you in our care, Jason, for the rest of today’s schedule.” She flounced her coat more squarely on her shoulders. “Why don’t you leave that motorbike of yours here while we take a taxi uptown to the hospital?” Trish waved in the general direction of Elaine, who looked as if she was starting to lose interest in her Mr. Right. “Elaine can drive it up and meet us there.”

      “Claire