Rising up on her booted toes, Julia slid one hand behind his neck. Her fingers dug into the cropped hair along his nape, urging him to continue.
Ben did her bidding with a muffled groan.
His lips covered hers in a heated kiss. His hands moved from her waist to her hips at the same time the tip of his tongue laved her lower lip. She opened for him, catching a faint taste of mint as he deepened the kiss.
His woodsy, earthy scent intoxicated her brain and she pressed closer, until nothing separated them. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Suddenly the kiss softened. Ben eased back, nipping at her mouth and jawline with tiny pecks and little bites, then moving to press a moist kiss against the column of her throat.
“I’m afraid if we don’t stop, we might not get to your bucket list item,” he whispered in her ear.
“You’re doing a fabulous job at distracting me from your ice-skating challenge,” she answered.
A chuckle rumbled through his chest and into hers, drawing an answering smile from her.
“So, about that tour?” Ben asked.
Linking her fingers with his, Julia leaned back and held their arms out at their sides. “I’m thinking that might not be a good idea. We may get distracted again and wind up swapping one adventure for another. One we’re probably not ready for yet.”
A playful grin curved the corners of his mouth as they eyed each other for several moments. Attraction crackled in the air between them. She was oh so tempted to throw caution to the wind. And yet . . .
Ben must have sensed her hesitation because he tossed her a quick wink before tugging her toward the left part of the first floor. “Come on. Our hot chocolate isn’t going to heat itself. We have a mission to accomplish tonight.”
As she followed him through his gorgeous home into a gourmet kitchen with marble and onyx counters and professional-quality appliances her mami would have loved to cook with, Julia couldn’t help wondering when “make out with a Major League All-Star” had been added to her bucket list.
Because if you asked her right now, that wish had leapfrogged everything else to make it number one.
* * *
“Does that feel tight enough?” Ben adjusted the black buckle straps on Julia’s rental hockey skates.
Kneeling down on the sidewalk in front of her, he spanned the ankle part of the blue skate with his hand, jiggling back and forth lightly to ensure a snug fit.
What he really wanted to do was glide his hand up the length of her trim leg, imagining the softness of her skin under her skinny jeans. Capture her mouth with his again. Start back up where they’d left off in his foyer earlier.
He pulled his thoughts up short before his body betrayed him by reacting to the heated memory of having her in his arms. Instead he grasped her other foot, checking the tightness of the straps.
“Uh, yeah, it feels good.”
The hitch in Julia’s voice had him glancing up at her. He squinted under the glare of the lights off a nearby Christmas tree. It was one of multiple trees lining the length of the left side of the ice rink, separating it from part of the Christkindlmarket at the Park at Wrigley.
Despite the entire area being closed for their private skate time, the market booths remained illuminated, their red and white striped roof material glowing. Strands of twinkling white Christmas lights crisscrossed the air above them, matching the large white snowflakes perched at the top of each metal light pole in the market square and the sidewalk along Clark Street.
Holiday music drifted softly through hidden speakers, and off in the far corner of the rink, a young teen wearing a heavy jacket bearing the park’s logo leaned against the glass dasher boards wrapping the perimeter of the rectangular rink. Other than the teen and a night manager, Julia and Ben had the place to themselves.
Julia scanned the area, her expression filled with delight. Bundled up in a navy wool coat and leather gloves, a red knit beanie cap keeping her head and the top of her ears warm, she looked more like a cute snow bunny than an island girl.
“When you said ‘private skate’ I guess it didn’t register that you’d rent the entire facility,” she said.
Ben lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It’s easier this way. Things can get a little precarious when you’re swarmed with fans in the middle of the ice.”
“Ahh, I see,” she murmured. “Sometimes I catch myself forgetting who you are.”
He tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You know. Cubs superstar and fan favorite. The MLB’s golden child. New face of the network.”
“You say all that like it’s a curse.”
“No, but it is a reality.” Her forehead creased, her brows drawing together like she was struggling to make sense of something. “Yours anyway.”
She shook her head as if to clear it, then turned to gaze out over the rink.
Ben rose from his haunches, his left knee cracking as he moved to sit next to her on the wood-slatted bench.
Something about the way Julia emphasized “yours,” like she needed to differentiate her reality from his, bothered him.
As if his connection to the sport he loved was a negative in her mind.
The idea was preposterous.
Sure, he’d noticed her reticence to talk about her brothers’ involvement with baseball, but he’d attributed it to her desire for privacy. Not any ill-will toward the game itself or the lifestyle being linked to it required.
Baseball had been his connection to every semblance of family he’d ever had. The only problem he saw with that was his inability to figure out how to replace it now that he’d been forced out.
But a negative? Never.
“So let me ask you this,” he ventured, trying to wrap his head around the idea that for the first time in his adult life, his status as a big-time player could be a
