Chapter Two-The Definition of Icing

Yay! I can’t wait for the release of The Definition of Icing tomorrow, but to hold you over, here’s Chapter Two.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

Sin Bin: Same thing as the penalty box — Nate

Shit. Shit. The room goes silent—well as silent as it can be with DJ Snake and Lil Jon’s “Turn Down For What” blaring in the studio—but Nate has brought the room to a screeching halt with his threat.

I hold my breath as I watch Todd and Jillian stare at Nate, completely gobsmacked by his involvement in my situation.

“So do we have an understanding?” Nate asks. “Kenley, the outfit of her choice, and her chocolates are part of my photo shoot. I’m the eye candy on this one. Oh, and if you don’t agree, I walk. And I’ll be sure to tell the Demons I bolted because of your sexist attitudes, don’t you know.”

Boom! Nate might as well have thrown a physical punch at them from the panicked expressions now filtering across both their faces.

“You shouldn’t need even a second to discuss, but I’ll let you have it,” Nate continues, his brown eyes still locked on Todd and Jillian. He bends down and picks up his silver and black jersey that is on the floor and strides away.

I immediately follow him.

“Nate,” I say quietly, falling into step next to him. “I don’t even know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem adequate. But thank you for saying that.”

He stops, and I take a moment to study him. He’s got rich dark-brown hair and espresso-colored eyes, with a hint of stubble shading his jawline. There’s no doubt about it, the man is attractive. Very attractive.

“I hope you don’t feel like I overstepped my bounds. But that was fucking bullshit. Those two belong in the Sin Bin for how they were treating you.”

“Sin Bin?”

Nate smiles, and lord, he’s gorgeous when he does.

“Sorry. Hockey slang for Penalty Box,” he explains, raking a hand through his thick, dark hair.

Okay, I’m still clueless but obviously Nate’s inferring they should be punished for being such jerks to me.

“I appreciate you stepping in,” I say softly.

“You don’t have to thank me. It was the right thing to do.”

I’m so surprised by his words I don’t even know what to say. And despite my efforts, I find my eyes taking a quick detour to the full sleeve tat on his left arm. Interesting. It’s an intricate pattern, and I see a fish—

“It’s a Japanese Koi fish.”

I blink and turn my attention back to him. “What?”

“The tattoo you were studying. Japanese Koi fish.”

My face instantly feels hot. Apparently nothing gets past Nate Johansson.

I clear my throat and try to ignore the inferno spreading across my stupid face. “Um, right,” I say. “But please don’t feel like you have to do these pictures with me—”

“I wouldn’t say anything I didn’t mean,” Nate interrupts, pulling his jersey back over his head. “Besides, I do these all the time. It would be fun to do something different for a change.”

Damn. It would have been nice if he had kept his jersey off longer, but that would be more humiliating for me if he caught me drooling over his completely cut core, wouldn’t it?

What am I doing?

I’m totally checking him out. I hate when men do this to me, yet here I am doing it to Nate. Okay. Note to self: Give men a little more slack in the future when it comes to first impressions.

But regardless, I’ve been on a self-imposed man sabbatical since I don’t trust men to say what they mean or their reasons for getting to know me. My last relationship—that I naively thought was based on me, the inside me, wasn’t.

That was two years ago. My trust still hasn’t returned.

And I haven’t met anyone I’ve been interested in dating.

So why can’t I keep my eyes off Nate?

Harrison comes up from behind and slaps Nate on the back, breaking through my thoughts.

“Such a badass, Johansson,” he says, grinning. “Well done.”

Nate laughs in response. “If you call me a knight-in-shining-armor I’ll punch you,” Nate says. “Because this lady is no damsel-in-distress.”

Then he looks at me knowingly.

My pulse suddenly leaps in response to his gaze.

“I’m glad you did it, Nate,” Kylie says. She turns to me. “Why do you have to dress like a slut to promote chocolate?”

“And I doubt they’d ask a male chocolate consultant to do a shoot in his boxer-briefs,” Harrison adds.

If he was as gorgeous as Nate they might.

Then I’m horrified by my thought. Shit, what is my problem today? Maybe it’s the heat. It’s clouding my judgment. That must be it.

Suddenly I hear heels clicking against the concrete floor. I turn over my shoulder and see Jillian coming toward us, an anxious expression plastered across her face.

When she reaches me, she nervously clears her throat.

“Um, Kenley, first I want to apologize for any misunderstanding that happened back there. It was never our intention to make you uncomfortable in any way. We were simply trying to find the best way to promote your business.”

Riiiiiiight.

I don’t say anything because she’s full of crap. And when I don’t, she clears her throat again.

“So,” she says, forging ahead, “we’d love for you to wear the outfit you brought. And to appear with Nate.”

I glance at Nate. “Is your offer still good?”

“Of course,” he says.

Jillian smiles broadly. “Fantastic. Now, Nate, we need to get Kenley to hair and makeup, so I hope that works okay with your schedule as we’re going to be behind.”

“No problem,” Nate says easily. Then he lifts an eyebrow at Jillian. “So do you want my shirt on?”

Jillian appears flustered. “On is fine.”

“Good,” Nate says, nodding at her.

Jillian quickly directs her attention to me, pushing her oversized glasses back up on the bridge of her nose. “Kenley, if you’ll come with me, I have a hair stylist and makeup artist ready to work on you.”

“Okay.” I quickly turn to Harrison and Kylie. “It was a pleasure meeting both of you.”

“Would it be okay if I emailed you about a class or private lesson?” Kylie asks. “Because I’d love to do that.”

Happiness zips through me. “Yes, just email me from my website, and we’ll set something up.”

“Great,” Kylie says. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Then she and Harrison say goodbye and exit the studio, with Harrison tugging Kylie to him and kissing the top of her head as they walk out the door.

He adores her, I think, watching them.

And again, I can’t help but wonder what that would feel like, to be loved in that way.

“Kenley?” Jillian asks, snapping me from my thoughts. “Are you coming?”

I refocus and turn back to Nate. “Are you sure you’re okay waiting on me?” I ask. “I don’t want this to ruin your afternoon.”

“Nah, you’re solid,” Nate says. “Now go before they change their minds and try to shove you in that slut sack again.”

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, Nate is laughing, and Jillian is turning a bright shade of red.

So I follow Jillian back and prepare for the shoot. I change into my navy dress, which is both feminine and fitted. Next I’m draped with a cloth and hair and makeup people flitter about me. My hair is twisted up into a loose chignon, my makeup is done with smoky eyeliner but a nice neutral lip to balance it out. Of course, the makeup is applied heavier so it will show on camera, but I appear pretty and professional.

Next I put on my large stone statement necklace, the one with abstract shapes and chiseled cuts, which adds a nice contrast to the softness of my dress and pink cashmere sweater. Sweater, I remember. Yes, even though it is hot outside, I’m supposed to be thinking soft and cozy and romantic. I go to my garment bag and get it, slipping it on.

“You look fabulous,” Ashley, the makeup artist, says.

“Thank you for all of your help,” I say. Then I laugh. “And just so you know, my makeup will never be this good again.”

Ashley grins as she slides her powder blush back into her case. “You’re very welcome. You were fun to work with, Kenley.”’

I smile and move past her, picking up my cooler. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way back to the studio.

Nate is standing on the set, and Todd is adjusting the light. His head is cocked to the side, his arms folded across his chest. And while I know the heat has to be impacting my brain, there’s no denying that Nate is one hell of a sexy man.

Nate must feel my gaze because he glances over at me. His eyes lock on mine, and I feel my stomach tingle in response.

Todd turns around. “Oh, hi, Kenley. Are you ready?”

I nod. “Yes, I am.”

“And you brought some props?” Todd asks, coming over to me.

I put my bag on a table and unzip it. “I brought some exotic candy bars, which I figured would hold up well under the lights. And I have chocolate-dipped strawberries that spell out ‘I love you.’”

“Fantastic,” Todd says.

“And I talked about both of these to the reporter as ways to celebrate Valentine’s Day with your significant other,” I add.

Todd picks up the candy bars, and I explain what he’s studying.

“I call this my ‘Passport Collection,’ and how you can travel the globe through chocolate,” I say. “There’s a milk chocolate bar infused with curry spice, a dark chocolate bar with wasabi paste, dark chocolate with Hawaiian sea salt—”

“Chocolate with curry?” Nate interrupts, coming closer to us. “I’m sorry, but that sounds horrible.”

Oh, this is the part of my job I love the most. Convincing people to step outside their comfort zones to discover an unexpected pleasure.

“You have to try it,” I assure him. “It’s a delicious combination.”

“No,” Nate says, holding out his hand. “That’s gross.”

“You have to open your mind to the experience of tasting,” I say, having had people similar to Nate in every single lecture I’ve given.

“I already have a favorite chocolate. That’s Marabou. I don’t need to try anything else.”

“Wait. You know Marabou?” I ask, surprised. That’s a famous Swedish chocolate, not easy to locate in the States, and certainly not well-known.

Nate rubs his hand along the stubble shading his jawline.

“As a native Minnesotan of Swedish ancestry, you betcha,” he says, making the “betcha” sound super Midwestern.

The he flashes me this grin, one that makes my breath catch in my throat the second I see it.

“Okay,” Todd says, interrupting us, “I know what I want to do. Let’s start with you two standing together, facing each other. Kenley, you fan the chocolate bars out like a deck of cards, and Nate, you select one.”

We move over to the set, and now I’m facing Nate. And it’s hard to focus when I have to stare directly into his gorgeous brown eyes.

“You look nice,” Nate says softly.

I smile. “Better than the slut sack?”

Nate laughs. “Yes.”

Suddenly I hear the click of a camera.

“You two seem to be comfortable. Fantastic,” Todd says. “Now Kenley, fan out the chocolate.”

I do as I’m told and smile at Nate, who acts like he’s trying to select the lesser of all evils presented to him.

“If I pick it, do I have to eat it?” he asks.

“No, you’re already going to try the curry one,” I say.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you the chocolate dictator or something?” Nate teases.

Now we’re laughing, and Todd tells us to keep it up.

“The only one I’d be willing to think about trying is the salt one,” Nate declares, selecting that bar. “And that still sounds weird.”

“It’s not,” I promise, smiling at him.

“It is,” Nate counters.

“We’ll see,” I challenge back.

“Will we?” Nate asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.

Whoa, is this flirting?

I shouldn’t be flirting.

He’s a hockey player.

Which means a player.

And I’m on a man sabbatical.

Besides, it’s a photo shoot. We’re pretending, right?

Right?

“Okay, now we’re going to have Nate introduce you to hockey,” Todd says, stepping onto the set. “You brought your sticks, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve got ‘em,” Nate says.

“So here’s my thought,” Todd explains. “Kenley introduced you to exotic chocolate, so you’re going to introduce her to how to shoot an imaginary puck.”

Nate goes to retrieve a hockey stick and comes back with one.

“Kenley, would you move here, please?” Todd asks.

I nod and move to the spot where he wants me to be.

“Now Nate, come around and stand behind her,” Todd says. “Then put your arms around her and show her how to hold the stick.”

What?

Suddenly my throat goes dry. Am I going to have to be held by Nate Johansson for this picture?

Shit, shit, shit.

This does not bode well for me keeping any thoughts of a man-sabbatical in place.

“Sure,” Nate says easily.

He moves behind me and places the hockey stick in my hands. I take it and then Nate leans to me, wrapping his hands around mine.

Suddenly every sense I have is flooded with Nate—the way his hands feel warm on my skin. The way I can smell his cologne because he’s pressed up against me. The way his native Minnesotan accent is now becoming a familiar sound to my ears . . .

“Fantastic,” Todd says excitedly, moving back to get his camera. “Now Kenley, can you pretend you’re concentrating?”

Concentrating? Is Todd kidding? I’m supposed to concentrate when Nate Johansson is pressed up against me?

The thought is so absurd I burst out laughing.

“What?” Nate asks.

Now I’m dying. I can’t stop laughing, which makes Nate laugh, and then I’m laughing because I would sooner die than Nate know why I was laughing.

“Great,” Todd says, snapping away. “Keep acting like you’re having fun.”

“What,” Nate manages to ask, “are we laughing at?”

Oh, that you respect women and stand up for them, you’re incredibly handsome, and I’m supposed to concentrate when you have your hands on me. Like that is going to happen.

“I don’t remember,” I lie.

We continue to move around and take different shots, and then we take a few quick ones of us holding the dipped strawberries on a tray, with Nate on one side and me on the other. But since the light was causing the chocolates to start to melt, we finished up after that.

Nate and I both go back to change, and when we return, I see that Nate is now wearing a white T-shirt and shorts. The white T-shirt outlines his sculpted shoulders and broad chest, and once again the tattoo sleeve on his left arm is visible.

Todd shows us the pictures, and I can’t help but notice how happy I appear in them. I’m smiling, I’m laughing, and I’m having fun.

With a man.

This hasn’t happened in so long I forgot what I looked like when I was happy around a guy.

Then I bite my lip. Or have I ever appeared this happy with a man?

Of course, it’s all pretend.

For Nate, that is.

After reviewing the pictures, Jillian hands us each a sheet of paper as Nate and I gather up our things. I skim it briefly as we head to the elevator together. Ah, yes, the quick fire career definitions we have to answer to accompany our photos. Mine has questions such as, “What is a soufflé?” Out of curiosity, I glance at Nate’s to see what career terms he has. The first word I can make out is Sin Bin before Nate folds his paper in half. Then I quickly file the paper with my stuff as we step into the elevator.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Nate says as the doors close.

“It was fun,” I admit.

“Yeah, I thought so, too. But I’m still not trying your weird chocolate,” he declares, lifting an eyebrow at me.

“How can a man who faces flying rubber pucks for a living be afraid of chocolate with curry?”

“I’m not afraid. I just know I won’t like it.”

I laugh. “Stubborn doesn’t scare me. I will get you to try it.”

Nate grins. “Really? You think I’m stubborn? I think you are.”

“No, no, I’m the most flexible person ever,” I declare, adjusting the strap on my purse. “I’m only stubborn when people try to cheat themselves out of a fantastic chocolate experience.”

“Here, let me carry one of your bags,” Nate says, lifting the garment bag from me.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

The elevator ride is over far too quick. Nate lets me step out first, then he moves next to me, his bag of hockey sticks slung over his shoulder. We return our visitor badges to the front desk and head to the parking garage.

He opens the door to go outside, letting me go first.

And immediately I’m greeted with a blast of hot, humid air.

“Christ, is it ever not 5,000 degrees here?” Nate asks.

“Is this a little too warm for a guy from Minnesota?” I ask, smiling.

“Yes,” he says, pausing as we enter the parking garage. “It’s stupid hot here.”

“Hang on a few more months,” I assure him. “Usually toward October it starts cooling off. Maybe.”

Nate groans. “Great. I’ll eagerly await 90-degree days.”

I laugh. “Oh trust me, you will.”

“Where did you park?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m right here,” I say, pointing to my car, which is in sight. “The red Volvo.”

Nate escorts me over to my car and helps me load up my stuff. Then I shut the door and turn around, and we’re face-to-face again.

“I’m over on the other side,” he says. Then he clears his throat. “Thank you for making that photo shoot fun today.”

“No, no, I need to thank you,” I say honestly.

We’re silent for a moment.

But Nate isn’t leaving.

An idea hits me. I can’t believe I’m about to do what I’m going to do, but I sense this will be my only opportunity, and I blurt it out before I change my mind.

“Um, Nate, I know it’s a little early for dinner, but would you like to go somewhere around here and grab something to eat? As my way of saying thank you for saving the shoot for me today?” I ask, my words flying out in a nervous rush.

Nate’s expression completely changes. An awkward expression passes over his face, and he rakes a hand through his dark hair.

And I instantly know I’ve made a mistake in asking him to dinner.

“Um, Kenley, that’s nice of you to offer, and I mean that, but I’m going to have to decline,” Nate says softly. He pauses for a moment and then continues. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. Hopefully I’ll see you around, okay?”

And then he turns and walks away.

 

Wanna know the rest of the story? You can order your copy here myBook.to/Icing