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He would have pounded home the point except a notification from the security guard at his front gate chimed on his phone. Pulling it from his ear, he read the message.
Lark is out front. Should I let her through?
Surprise made him hesitate for only an instant. Then he tapped an auto-response command in the affirmative. Damn right he wanted to see her, even if he couldn’t imagine what she was doing here.
Returning his phone to his ear as he rose to his feet, he strode to the door while Dex continued speaking without pause. “And there are two new teams interested in you because of this new attention. A lot of hockey clubs are trying to be supportive of women’s teams and this really resonates—”
Clearly he hadn’t missed much of the conversation. His agent was giving the same old spiel while headlights arced across Gibson’s windows. Anticipation thrummed through him.
Gibson pulled open the front door as Lark herself stepped from a gray sedan, her long legs encased in fitted black boots. She still wore the same white tank dress she’d had on in the television clip.
And she was here. At his house.
Making him want her simply by being.
His throat was dry when he spoke again. “Dex, I have to go now. I’ll call later. Bye.”
Shutting the phone off and tossing it on the couch and well out of reach, Gibson held the door open wide for his too-gorgeous ex-wife who’d just set him on fire with her take-no-prisoners approach with the media.
Whatever she wanted, he was more than happy to provide.
Five
Lark’s thoughts scrambled at the sight of her ex-husband on his front doorstep. The overhead porch light cast his chiseled features in shadow, his broad shoulders and strong chest stretching the fabric of a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons unfastened. Dark gray trousers hugged his thighs, while his sock-clad feet padded onto the painted black floor of the deep porch.
Seeing him there, looking tousled after a workday, reminded her of other homecomings when they’d lived together. On his rare days off when he’d cooked for her, he would greet her this way, the scents of a simple roasted chicken or grilled steaks drifting out the door while he wrapped her in those massive arms. Just thinking about it made her gaze return to them now, the musculature so well-defined he could have been an anatomy diagram. A very hot diagram.
“This is a welcome surprise.” His voice jarred her from thoughts she had no business thinking. “Will you come in?”
Shaking off the hunger that seemed to grow every time she saw him, Lark flipped her braid behind her shoulder and took a step forward. She’d driven over here, after all. She couldn’t pretend it had been an accident.
She’d expected to see the media camped outside his gates, but there’d been no one there except the security guard. Perhaps the local cops flushed out unwanted visitors now and then. Whatever the reason, she needed a safe haven from reporters.
Yet setting foot inside Gibson’s house with him looking at her the way he was right now would only lead to her making questionable decisions.
“That’s not necessary but thank you.” She folded her arms across her chest, gathering her defenses against all six feet four inches of male charisma staring back at her.
He lifted one dark eyebrow in question. “It may not be necessary, but I think we’d be more comfortable if we took a seat while you tell me what brought you over here.”
Glancing around the front yard of the home they’d chosen together, Lark tried to find a good reason to remain out of doors.
“It’s such a nice night though,” she hedged, her heart thumping too hard, too fast. “Maybe we could sit on the porch swing? That is, if you still have it hanging up on the back side of the house?”
Already she felt foolish for driving here, of all places, when she’d been agitated from the media interview and her emotions were already scraped raw from romantic dances in her backyard. But she hadn’t been able to think of anywhere else to take shelter until she was certain the reporters were gone.
“Sure thing.” Nodding, Gibson waved her around to the rear of the place, leading her along the polished floor planks. “It’s a good spot for watching sunsets, just like we guessed it would be.”
They’d been excited to purchase the property. So hopeful that it would help heal the growing rift between them created by his long absences. But there’d been one delay after another with the sale, and in the end, they hadn’t been able to hang on long enough to see if the house could be a magic elixir to fix their broken relationship.
Frustration over all that they’d lost—so much more than Gibson knew—put the starch in her spine that she needed for this visit.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this part of the estate at least.” She followed him around the house to the veranda in back where a low half-moon illuminated the cedar swing painted gray. “I noticed you’re renovating most of the rest of it.”
Taking a seat on the far end of the swing, she regretted commenting on the home as soon as the words were out of her mouth. It didn’t matter what changes he made to his house. The property was no concern of hers anymore.
Even if a tiny, ugly part of her brain wondered if there was a girlfriend behind the redesign of a perfectly good residence.
“I’m adding a suite for Mom,” he told her simply, tossing aside a plump ivory-colored throw pillow before he lowered himself into the swing. “So I’ve been grateful for a few places to retreat from the dust of remodeling.”
