Hockey Holidays Read online

  “That would be up to you.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I thought you wanted kids? Hell, three years ago you gave me all kinds of crap for wanting to wait. Now we’ve waited.”

  “This is crazy.” He shook his head.

  “You’ll be a great father. You have so much to teach children,” she said.

  “This is nuts.”

  “You said that already. Will you at least consider it?”

  He frowned, his brow wrinkled.

  “Please. Just think about it. You don’t have to decide now.”

  “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  She shot him a flirtatious glance. “We could work on making the first one now.”

  A grin lit up his face. “We could. Yes. I’d be up for that.”

  “You’d have to be up for it to work,” she chuckled, sliding the comforter down.

  Christmas Eve day

  Harry woke up first. He stretched in bed and yawned. It killed him that he felt fine but still couldn’t play. It’s not like he had a broken limb or was paralyzed, or anything like that. Still a perfect physical specimen plus a scar from the surgery, yet without the stamina to play hockey.

  Shaking his head, he hit the john, brushed his teeth, and pushed the frustration out of his mind. Kitty had begged him not to cancel their big party today, and he’d agreed. Harry’d pretend to be happy, cheerful, laughing, and feeling the spirit. No more difficult task could have befallen him.

  His wife slept. Her auburn hair complemented the ivory pillowcase. One bare shoulder protruded from the fluffy comforter. Her skin, smooth, the color of porcelain, tempted him. According to tradition, making love was on the agenda.

  After checking his armpits, he eased back into bed. Harry snaked his arm around Kitty’s middle. She stirred.

  “What time is it?”

  “Time for lovin’,” he replied.

  With a soft chuckle, she rolled over to face him. “Bathroom first.”

  “Go,” he said, giving her rump a squeeze as she flung off the covers.

  Hippity-hopping across the cold floor, her bare skin pebbled as she wrapped her arms around her chest. Harry dialed up the temperature on the mattress pad. Within minutes the bathroom door opened, and his beautiful, naked lady scooted across the room and took a flying leap into bed. Harry drew her close, into his warmth.

  “Oh, God. It’s cold,” she said, her teeth chattering a bit.

  “Let me warm you up,” he snickered.

  Kitty wound her leg around his hips and snuggled her face into his neck. A faint, sweet, familiar scent pleased his nose. His hands rubbed up and down the tender skin of her back.

  “Warming up?”

  She nodded.

  Harry loosened his grip so he could reach around in front where luscious breasts flattened against his chest. Blood pumped to his dick as he caressed her body. Kitty kissed him, unleashing his desire. He cupped her rear, pushing her hips to his. Her perfect butt filled his hand. She ran her instep up and down his shin. When her knee moved up, he clasped her thigh, his fingers on the back. He slid them up to her core, grinning as she let out a small gasp.

  “Harry,” she breathed in his ear.

  “Love you,” he said.

  Kitty wrapped her fingers around his erection while he rubbed her. Then he slid a finger between her folds and inside. She squeezed her eyes shut and stopped moving.

  “Damn. You do it. You do it to me. Every time.”

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Hell, yes.”

  He mounted her, lubricated himself with her juices, then entered. He loved the feel of her tightness surrounding him. Her moans and movement spiked his desire. At least he could still give his wife pleasure. Gratitude filled his heart. He pumped his hips, his eyes slitted to watch her reaction.

  Kitty’s face softened, then her eyes squeezed tight as her groans grew louder. She was close. Harry smiled as he watched her give in to an orgasm. He bowed his head, kissing her neck. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

  Pushing up on his hands, he stared down at her. Her eyes fluttered open, the green more brilliant.

  “Harry,” she sighed.

  He grinned. “Good one?”

  “The best.”

  Her muscles contracted around him again, spiking his body heat. He increased his pace and closed his eyes as his release took over his body. His balls tightened, one shudder, a hard thrust, and he stopped. Warmth and pleasure coursed through his veins all the way to his toes.

  Bracing himself, he lowered his lips to her peak once more, then withdrew. Sitting back on his haunches, his gaze caressed his wife. Beautiful, vulnerable, and satisfied, Kitty smiled at him and combed her fingers through his hair.

  “I love you, Harry Edwards.”

  “And I love you, beautiful.”

  He fell back on the pillows next to her. Kitty crawled into his embrace, snuggling her head against his shoulder. Harry ran his fingertips over her bare skin. His thoughts returned to his situation, bringing a frown.

  “Are you fretting about hockey?” she asked.

  “Sort of.”

  “Forget it. We have the party tonight. There’s so much to do. The caterers will be here at noon,” she said.

  “Noon? It thought it was tonight.”

  “Tonight, on Christmas Eve, starts at four o’clock. It’s an open house. I expect we’ll have people coming and going from four until eleven.”

  “Geez.”

  “I know. But you always have fun. Tomorrow’s our bathrobe-and-leftovers day.”

  He grinned. “That’s the best present of all.” This time, he wouldn’t be playing, so it didn’t matter if he drank or was rested or had exercised during those days off, did it?

  “You’re a regular party animal, Harry.”

  He laughed. “Not exactly. What time is it?”

  “Ten. Already,” she groaned, rolling over on her back.

  “Better get dressed before the troops arrive,” he muttered, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the side.

  Kitty grabbed his hand, and, drawing it to her lips, muttered, “Thank you.”

  Harry bent down, cupped her cheek, and brushed her lips with his. Then he stood and wandered into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  By eleven thirty, his house was filled with hot-and-cold running caterers, bartenders, liquor store delivery boys, and waiters. The house had been scrubbed from top to bottom. The kitchen overflowed with people preparing food. Clad in navy sweats, Kitty stood in the living room, directing everyone.

  Temporary bars were set up in the foyer and the den. The dining room table, stretched to its limit with inserts, had been covered with a gigantic, festive tablecloth, and sterling silver flatware. It stood proud and ready to present the scrumptious buffet. Platters, pulled from cupboards, were washed and ready to carry hot and cold hors d’oeuvres among the crowd expected to invade his space in the early afternoon.

  Harry bundled up in fleece sweats and a down jacket, climbed in his SUV, and sped away. He drove around for an hour, stopping for breakfast at the mom-and-pop diner nearby. With nowhere to go, he turned the car toward Hartford and the barn. At least it would be quiet there.

  After punching in his code, he opened the door, and headed for the rink. He flipped on the lights. The Zamboni had been through and the pristine ice beckoned him. He loved to be the first one on clean ice, leaving his tracks on the smooth surface.

  He lugged his skates from his locker and went for a spin. Careful not to exert himself, he glided along, forward, then backward, lifting a leg, and ending in a twirl. Harry’d been on ice since he was eight. Memories of speed skating contests on a pond in the woods returned. He smiled. From the get-go, little Harry Edwards had been the fastest boy on ice in his small hometown. His parents, always stretching a buck to feed a family of five, saved enough to get him a second-hand pair of ice skates for Christmas.

  It had been love at first s