If Ever(91)

Tom grins, showing off his gorgeous dimples, and leans the mic stand to the side in a rocker stance belting out the song.

When he gets to the chorus, he does dance moves that I'm sure must be straight from the stage show. Everyone in the bar goes wild because he really nails the steps. I pound on the table and hoot.

During each break in lyrics he grins as if about to bust into laughter again, but then jumps right back into the song with vocals that gives me goose bumps. His rocker act is hilarious, only because I know how much he wanted to be in that show. It really does go against his type, but he is adorable and my mouth hurts from grinning.

Toward the end of the song, he calls out for everyone to join in. The whole bar sings along in one huge party chorus. When the music stops, we're all on our feet. Tom is cracking up and points to me across the room. I blow him a kiss.

He hands the mic back to the DJ. The man high-fives him and says, "I've heard that song slaughtered about a thousand times, and I've gotta tell you, dude, that was totally dope."

When Tom returns to our table, his buddies pound him on the back. He reaches me, grinning. "I can't believe you got me to do that."

I wrap my arms around his neck. " I love your rocker side."

"Good." He grabs my ass in front of everyone. The guys whistle, and Tom growls in my ear. "Cause you're going to be seeing more of him later tonight."





31





I tickle Chelsea's nose with a lock of her hair. Her face wrinkles and she opens her eyes.

"Good morning."

Her eyes focus on me and a lazy smile covers her lips. "Last night was great."

"Sure was, you wild thing." I lightly nip her shoulder. She blushes, which I love. One second she's sweet and adorable, the next she's...not. "So, Tiger, what would you like to do for your birthday?"

Learning that her mom passed away on her birthday was pretty shitty. I'd like to give her some new birthday memories that will be a helluva lot better, and I know exactly how to do that—with an engagement ring.

"Last night was the best birthday ever. Today we relax." She stretches like a lithe cat. The sheet slides down exposing the curve of her breast, reminding me that she's naked as the day she was born.

"Nope. You said you were born at 11:26 p.m. That means we have all of today that still counts as your birthday."

"That's an interesting way of looking at it, Mr. Oliver." She turns on her side, propping her head on her hand, the sheet drapes her body over the dip of her waist and up over her hip. "So, what did you have in mind?"

I take in her tousled hair and relaxed smile and know exactly what I'd like to do, but I have a busy day already and need to figure out how to give her a proper birthday. "Before we can start the celebration, I've got to workout and then I have a meeting."

"You sure have a lot of meetings," she says with a wink.

"I do. But if you can keep yourself busy until mid afternoon, I'm yours for the rest of the day."

"In this city, not a problem." I love how easily she's accepted my crazy schedule.

"The next question is what would you like to do?" I give her a quick peck on the nose.

"Well, since you ask, there is one thing I want." She lifts her foot out from under the covers and draws it slowly up my bare leg, raising goose bumps, and igniting the fire I've been fighting to keep at bay. Her eyes flicker and the tip of her tongue peeks out.

"Hmm. You are the birthday girl."





An hour later, I'm in the middle of my third set of reps. I rest for a minute and think back to the day Chelsea literally danced into my life. I hadn't been looking for anyone. In fact, I'd declared a moratorium on dating for a full year since my last failed relationship with a woman named Barbie who turned out to be a soul-sucking psychopath. But Chelsea is the complete opposite. She’s smart, always positive, and makes me laugh. Plain and simple, she makes me want to be a better person. After straining through another rep until my muscles quiver with fatigue, I wipe down the machine and call it a day. Now to plan her birthday celebration.

Late that afternoon, Chelsea's cheeks and nose are rosy. "Are you sure you're warm enough?" I tug the collar of her coat higher and adjust her scarf and hat. We’re having a cold snap that chills me to the bone. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

She grins up at me, excitement sparkles in her eyes. "Do you have any idea how many years since I've ice skated?"

We wobble our way to the edge of the rink. I take a small step onto the ice and turn to her, my skates sliding easily on the smooth surface. The sensation takes me back to when I was twelve and skating with my friends at the neighborhood rink. "Ready?" I hold out my hand.

She gives me a look of fake terror and clings to the guardrail.

"Come on, if you can do flips with Dominic Yardley, you can manage ice skating with me."

"Okay, but stand back. If I go down, I don't want to take you with."

There's probably something in my contract stating I'm not allowed to ice skate. Missing a show due to a skating injury would not go over well with the producers, but the thrill of adventure on Chelsea's face is worth the risk.

She steps tentatively onto the ice, gliding forward and then wobbles, letting out a little squeal. She almost loses her balance, but then evens out. I take a couple strides and am surprised at how easily skating comes back to me. Chelsea seems to find her skating legs too, as she slides up to me with a grin.