She blinked, obviously expecting more. “And you’re with?”

“Lucian Osmond.”

It was fairly gratifying to watch the color leach from her face.

“Oh. I . . . ah . . . I know Luc . . . Lucian, that is.”

“I know.”

“You do?” She appeared pleased at this and glanced toward the ice.

It didn’t take any special talent to know she was looking at Lucian.

You don’t deserve to set eyes on him.

“Yes, his cousin Anton said Lucian had been engaged to a woman named Cassandra.”

Her smile was a little less steady now, and she eyed me with wariness.

“How lucky for you to find another fiancé so soon.”

May made a strangled noise of amusement, and Cassandra’s friend glared.

“Uh . . .” Cassandra’s nose wrinkled, and I knew she was trying to work out if I’d insulted her. “Thanks.”

My answering smile was glacial. “I really should thank you.”

“Thank me?” Confused brown eyes blinked rapidly.

“Yes. If you hadn’t walked out on Lucian, I might not have met him. He’s the best man I’ve ever known. So thank you.”

At that, I turned my back on her. I could have said more, said worse, but she wasn’t worth it. I moved to sit, but her hand on my arm stopped me. She’d stepped away from her friend and faced me on the stairs.

“Look, I know it sounded bad, what I was saying about Luc. But you should know hockey defines him. Without it, he’s nothing more than a shell.”

“You’re wrong. He’s so much more than that.”

Her smile was tight and wary. “I hope for your sake that’s true. Because the man I knew wasn’t capable of loving anything more than the sport.”

As though feeling my gaze, Lucian’s head lifted, and his gaze collided with mine. Something light and sweet flashed in his eyes, and he smiled, giving me a wave. His smile dimmed when he clearly spotted Cassandra with me. I pushed a wide smile, but he didn’t return it.

At my side, Cassandra took it all in. “Good luck with Luc.”

She left then, heading for the boards. The program was over, and the players were meeting and greeting more fans and parents. My heels clicked on the concrete stairs as I descended, matching the pounding of my heart. I wanted to touch him, hear his voice, be close to him. I needed that.

Lucian skated up to meet me, beautiful man mountain that he was. He looked down at me from his great height with tenderness and affection, but his jaw was set in a hard line. “She bother you?”

He sounded as though he’d very much make an issue of it if I said yes. Lucian cared. He cared so much he rarely let anyone see it. But I saw him. I leaned in, resting my belly on the boards. “No, she doesn’t bother me. Does she bother you?”

“No.” His smile was tight, worried. “Not anymore.”

I searched his face, wanting to reassure him, wanting him. “That woman did not deserve you.”

Light filled his eyes with a quiet happiness. “We were poorly suited. I was meant for you.”

“Kiss me.”

Lucian’s mouth twitched, but the tension left him. “There’s a lot of press around, Snoop. You okay with being seen as mine?”

“That depends. Are you okay with being seen as mine?”

His gloved hand slipped behind my neck to cup my nape. “I’ll wear a name tag declaring it if you want, honey.” He kissed me, soft and deep and long.

I felt it in my belly, in the clench of my chest that filled with both longing and satisfaction. My hands found the bulky pads of his shoulders, and I clutched his jersey as I kissed him back. It wasn’t until I heard a wolf whistle and Brommy’s familiar voice catcalling us that I eased back.

Lucian smiled at me, a private look that promised more later.

“You were terrific,” I said a little breathlessly, not willing to move away from him.

The corners of his mouth curled. “It was fun.” He gave the back of my neck a squeeze. “Come on; I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

A long carpet had been placed on the ice for people to walk on and say hello. Lucian led me to a group of guys, all of them towering over me in their skates. I met Lucian’s friends, the people who’d been such a huge part of his life.

It was clear that the guys loved and respected the hell out of him. They seemed to miss Lucian as much as Lucian missed them but were resigned to it. They’d all have to face the same someday.

A craggy, silver-haired man in his fifties came over to us.

“Em, this is Davis Rickman, my former coach. Rickman, this is . . .”

“Emma Maron. I watch your show religiously.” Rickman shook my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Given that everyone here seemed to watch my show and felt the need to tell me, it was becoming a little easier to hear the praise. Whatever I did with the rest of my life, I’d entertained a good portion of people during my stint on Dark Castle. That was a reward in and of itself.

Rickman eyed Lucian. “You okay with the next half?”

Lucian might as well have been made of marble. “Of course.”

The next half was a show of running drills, trick shots, and what I thought of as fancy skating. Watching Lucian speed around maneuvering the puck was sexy as hell.

God, he was beautiful when he skated. Joyous but also focused, that stern expression and ice-green eyes making for a combo that had many fans calling out and whistling in sheer lust. I was one of them. But then, I got to go home with him.

Lucky me.

“He’s extraordinary, isn’t he?”

I turned to find Rickman standing next to me. “Yes.” But I wasn’t talking about hockey.

I didn’t like the way Rickman looked at Lucian, as though assessing every move he made. There was something covetous that rubbed me raw. “He was lucky to have a coach who knew to let him go.”

Rickman turned my way, his eyes half hidden under bushy brows. “It was his choice. Not mine.”

“You wanted him to stay?”

He shrugged. “Our hands were tied. But he’s still the best player I’ve ever coached. Hockey smarts like you dream about.”

I didn’t know what to say to that and went back to clapping when Lucian whizzed by.

“Really is a pity,” Rickman mused.