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My stomach flipped. I couldn’t possibly tell him I was. “You?”
He lifted one shoulder and gazed at me with a vulnerable expression I’d never seen on his face before. And then he said, “If I were to be honest, I might let it slip that I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.”
It was like someone had upended a bottle of glitter inside me, spilled it down my spine. But I tried not to react. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to be another girl on Sly Remington’s list. I couldn’t be. I had responsibilities. “I, uh...” What the hell was I supposed to say to that? “I was probably thinking about you a little bit. In there with all the other stuff.”
He leaned in closer and I could see the very beginning of a shadow starting along his jaw, smell that leathery sexy scent he wore. Or was that just him? My brain was starting to scramble with proximity.
Oh god. He was staring at my lips. “Really? You were, huh?”
The entire room had tunneled down to this one table, this tiny space in which just the two of us sat. I didn’t hear the music, the noise of conversation. I heard only my heart, beating loud and hopeful.
I had no idea what to say, how to respond. I felt myself drawn to him, leaning in, but I knew I couldn’t kiss him here, in the middle of this party, with Katie nearby. Or at all. I screwed my eyes shut and forced myself back, turning toward the table and waving to a passing waiter for another glass of champagne.
“I was thinking how great you are with Katie.” I took a long swallow of champagne as I felt the charged tension between us begin to recede and the room opened up again. My eyes found my daughter, laughing with another little girl at a table across the room.
“Katie is great,” he said. “Clever and fun. You’re a really great mother.”
It felt so good to hear someone say it, but he didn’t know that. He’d been around for a whole three days. “I’m gone all the time.”
“I think you’re there when it counts.”
“Your mother probably spends more time with her than I do.”
“Kids need lots of role models, Clara. There’s nothing wrong with that. My mom is a great influence. Katie will learn which fork to use when and how to mix cocktails in crazy colors. Super important.”
I chuckled at that and risked a glance at Sly’s face, surprised to see it full of compassion, the eyes warm and wide. “Your mom is great. And Katie loves her. I just need to figure out how to be there for her more regularly as she gets older, starts to encounter real issues and questions.”
He nodded. “Yeah, maybe. You got a plan?”
I sighed. “I’m on the short list for a supervisory position. Regular hours, in the office and remote.”
“No more wrestling bears?” He lifted half his mouth in a sexy little smile and a warm shiver went through me. I took another sip of champagne.
“Sly, I don’t wrestle bears. I help track them, occasionally sedate them so we can tag them or place an orphan cub with a particular mama bear, and I study their habitat and behaviors.”
“Tomato, potato,” he said with a shrug. “Won’t you miss it? Sounds like you like it.”
“Yeah.” I tried not to think about that. The natural light replaced with the fluorescent bulbs of the office, the sound of birds and wind and rushing water supplanted by the noise of telephone calls and printers whirring. “But I’ll adjust. It’s better for Katie. And I haven’t gotten the job anyway.” I could barely admit to myself that part of me hoped I wouldn’t get it.
“Maybe not yet. But you will. You’re the kind of woman who gets what she sets out to get.” He said this with such confidence I found myself staring at him, forgetting myself.
“I am?”
“Hell yes. It’s what makes you so fucking sexy. That determination, that confidence. I wish I had half of it.”
“You’re a friggin’ hockey star. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of drive.”
He shrugged, the open smile dropping. “I’m not sure it’s drive. It might just be a different kind of determination.”
I shook my head. “What do you mean?”
“If I didn’t play hockey, what the hell would I do?” he asked. Before I could offer an answer, he added. “You saw first hand that I’m not the sharpest tool in the box. I was just lucky I could skate, or who knows where I’d be.”
I might have gaped. The sexy and successful winger for the Wilcox Wombats was full of self doubt? I’d never seen Sly Remington as anything but cocky and ready to take on the world.
“I don’t think that’s true,” I said. “There’s a difference between being intelligent and being great at algebra.”
“They’re definitely connected.”
