Power Play

by Anna DePalo

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your accident?”

  “I just did.” Her mother would be even more shocked if she knew how Sera had wound up in Jordan Serenghetti’s arms in the aftermath of her fender bender.

  “You know what I mean. The mothers are always the last to know.” Rosana sighed. “I bet your cousin Marisa would have told your aunt right away.”

  Her mother knew how to play the guilt card... And if there was one thing that Sera had grown up hearing about ad nauseam, it was the close relationship that Aunt Donna had with her cousin Marisa. Never mind that Aunt Donna had raised her only child as a single mother, making her and Marisa a family of two, relying on each other. Rosana Perini looked up to her older sister, even as she took her sibling’s life as a cautionary tale. Ever since Donna had been left pregnant and alone by a professional minor-league baseball player who’d died unexpectedly soon after, Rosana had worried about her. But she’d been thrilled when her older sister had finally found love again with Ted Casale.

  “Do you want me to ask Dante to go down to the auto body shop?”

  “No. I’m capable of handling my own car repairs.”

  “Do you need some money?”

  Sera deployed a tight smile. “No, I can handle it, Mom.”

  The last thing Sera wanted was for her family to think they needed to come to her aid. She’d spent most of her twentysomething years trying to shed the image of poor Sera who needed rescuing and protecting.

  “Thank goodness you got home okay.” Her mother frowned again. “You should have called me.”

  If only her mother knew that she hadn’t gone directly home but had been sidetracked at Jordan’s place. A detour that had risked turning into an all-night change of direction, if she hadn’t put the brakes on their intimate encounter. Then, to cover her bases, she volunteered, “I was lucky that Jordan Serenghetti happened to be driving by. I got a lift.”

  Not straight home. But her mother didn’t need to know that. Sera had been offering up information on a strictly as-necessary basis to her family for years. But it wouldn’t do if word somehow got back to her mother that Jordan had been at the scene of the accident and Sera hadn’t mentioned it. Dodging suspicion—that was what she’d been doing ever since she’d been a rebellious teenager cutting the occasional high-school class to hang out with friends.

  Rosana Perini shot her a disapproving look. “Another reason I worry about you living alone. Who’d know for hours if you didn’t make it home?”

  Exactly. Who’d know she’d almost spent last night at Jordan’s place? She couldn’t believe how quickly things had gotten hot and heavy. She’d been thinking all day about it, in fact. Reliving the highlights. He’d brought her to satisfaction right there in his foyer. Sera felt her face flame and hoped her mother didn’t notice.

  Jordan’s power to charm and seduce was beyond her understanding. The realization had unnerved her and sent her hightailing it out of his apartment.

  She’d already resolved to treat last night as an aberration never to be repeated. She’d had her guard down and had been running on emotion from an evening capped off by having her car banged up. Yup, that was her story, and she was sticking to it. She just needed to convince Jordan to treat last night as if it had never happened and swear him to silence about the whole comforting-embrace-leading-to-fringe-benefits thing.

  “It was another story when you and Marisa were roommates,” Rosana Perini continued, jerking Sera back to the present, “but now you’ve got no one nearby.”

  Except for Jordan. Sera kept her tone light. “I bought Marisa’s condo when she got married. I’ve still got the protective family aura that she left behind.”

  Her mother heaved a sigh. “You were always sassy, unlike your brother.”

  “I know. Dante is an angel. I guess you just got the names wrong, Mom.”

  “Speaking of Dante, he has a new job.”

  “Yes, I know, he told me.” How could she forget? Her brother’s new employment was what had gotten her into her current fix. Her gig as Jordan’s physical therapist meant she’d have to spend time again and again with the in-law she’d been intimate with.

  The doorbell sounded, and her mother got up. “I wonder who that is.”

  Moments later, Sera heard voices, and then her brother followed her mother into the room.

  “Dante, this is a wonderful surprise,” her mother said. “We were just talking about you.”

  Dante filched a piece of bread from the table and bit into it.

  Rosana’s face was wreathed in smiles as she headed for the kitchen. “I’ll set another plate and heat up some more food. I always make extra.”

  Dante winked at Sera and swallowed. “And today, your just-in-case habit paid off. Thanks, Mom.”

  As their mother disappeared, Sera regarded her brother. “You made her happy.”

  “Anything for Mom.” Dante took a seat opposite her, polishing off the last of his bread in the process. “I didn’t know you were here. Your car wasn’t out front.”

  “It’s there,” Sera mumbled. “I parked around the corner.”

  Dante snagged a piece of cheese from an appetizer plate. “Why would you do that?”

  Sera sighed. This was why she was careful around her family. It was always lots of questions—with a subtext of questioning her judgment. And then, because she figured Dante would find out anyway, Sera said, “I got into a little fender bender last night, so I’m driving Jordan Serenghetti’s car.”

  Dante stopped and swallowed. “Whoa, hold up. I’m still processing the cause and effect. How do you go from a little fender bender to driving the Razors’ top gun’s fancy wheels?” Her brother grinned. “That’s some fast work, sis. I’m employed by the Razors organization, and I haven’t even had a chance to grab a beer with Jordan yet.”

  “Hilarious, Dante.” She cast a quick look at the kitchen to make sure their mother wasn’t coming back. “Jordan drove by right after the accident.”

  “Just happened to drive by, huh?”

  “Yes,” she said, holding her brother’s gaze but nevertheless lowering her voice. If she couldn’t convince Dante there wasn’t the scent of a juicy story here, she was doomed with everyone else. “After my car was towed, Jordan lent me his. It was generous of him.”

  Dante nodded. “Generous.”

  Sera tilted her head. “What’s the matter with you? Have you turned into a parrot?”

  Her brother coughed. “Just trying to understand the facts.”

  Sera smiled brightly. “Well, there you have it. End of story.”

  “I thought the goal here was to get Jordan Serenghetti feeling indebted to the Perinis, not the other way around,” her brother teased.

  Tell me about it.

  “By the way, how’s it going with my favorite hockey player?”

  “Who?” she joked.

  Dante bit off a laugh. “Jordan Serenghetti, of course.”

  Sera debated how to answer. Obviously, I nearly slept with him was not the right choice. “He’s visiting the clinic weekly and...coming along nicely.”

  “And you’re still his physical therapist?” her brother asked gingerly.

  Therapist, in-law, hookup—did the label really matter? “Yup.”

  Dante relaxed and sat back in his chair. “I knew I could count on you, Sera.”

  “I didn’t say he’d be able to start the season. We’re still weeks away from any medical clearance.” She took a bite of her chicken parmigiana.

  Dante nodded. “But you’re helping me get off on the right foot at the office. I’ve dropped the information into key conversations that my sister is Jordan Serenghetti’s physical therapist.”

  “Yup, you owe me one.” Wouldn’t Rosana Perini be surprised to know that Sera was helping Dante instead of the other way around? “Don’t worry, I
’ll keep your dirty little secret from Mom. The halo will stay intact.”

  “You’re priceless, sis.”

  “It’s a big favor.” Probably the biggest that Dante had ever asked of her, come to think of it. All her instincts had told her to dump Jordan as a client as soon as possible—he was too much for her to handle on every level, and she’d been miserable at keeping it professional—but she was sticking it out for her brother’s sake.

  “Oh, come on, Jordan Serenghetti isn’t that bad. I’ll bet there are plenty of hockey fans in the ranks of physical therapists who’d love to have him as a client.”

  “I’m not one of them.” She just planned to survive the coming couple of months or so at her job—somehow—and be done. Before anyone discovered her dirty little secret—which she’d make Jordan swear to take to the grave.

  Seven

  She could do this. Sera sucked in a breath as she prepared to face Jordan Serenghetti again for the first time since that night. It was already Wednesday afternoon and time for their next therapy session. Somehow, she had to do an impossible balancing act between remaining professional and having a frank conversation that addressed moving forward from Saturday’s events.

  If their families caught even a whiff of this... situation, that there was more to it than Jordan just lending her his car, it would be like a powder keg exploding. She’d never hear the end of it, never live it down. Everyone would look at her and Jordan and know.

  She had to make the potential repercussions clear to Jordan—if he didn’t understand them already. And she also had to put the genie back in the bottle regarding what happened eight years ago—all in the hour or so they had for their therapy session.

  She rolled her eyes. She could do this. How hard could it be? She was dealing with a love ’em and leave ’em type who tossed baggage overboard and bailed... He should have no trouble agreeing to keep things under wraps, right?

  But yesterday’s delivery from the florist, arranged by Jordan, had made her think she had her work cut out for her.

  And unfortunately, she was still driving his car—inhaling his scent and touching his belongings. She told herself that was the reason she couldn’t get him out of her mind. And she had to concede it had been a nice thing to do to lend her his ride—a very expensive luxury sedan tricked out with leather upholstery and all the latest gadgets that made her beat-up secondhand car look like a horse and buggy. Her own vehicle continued to be in the shop for repairs, and she’d had to make time-consuming calls to her insurance company.

  As she stepped into the exam room at Astra Therapeutics, her gaze came to rest on Jordan leaning against the treatment table. Having no need for crutches anymore, he looked even more formidable.

  He was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. Really, what the man could do to a pair of jeans—let alone underwear—was sinful. And he was looking at her as if she were a pint of his favorite ice cream and he was a spoon.

  Being this close to him for the first time after Saturday night caused memories to flood back. Her pulse picked up, and she fought the sudden visceral urge to fit back into his arms and pick up where they’d left off. Have mercy. This was going to be even harder than she’d thought.

  “Hello, sunshine.”

  “We’re here for your rehab.” She set down her clipboard. Staying businesslike helped her not lose her mind. She planned to address their never-to-be-repeated Saturday night. Just not quite yet. She needed to work up to it and then make it short and sweet.

  He looked deep into her eyes. “I missed you after you left.”

  So much for steering him in a different direction. “Well, I’m here now.”

  “How’s my car working out for you?”

  “Fine.” And that was the problem. She’d felt enveloped by him for the past four days.

  He took her hand, surprising her, and ran his thumb over the back of her palm.

  She swallowed. “What happens in the penthouse stays in the penthouse.”

  He stopped and gazed at her.

  She could see herself daydreaming about his changeable green eyes. The whimsical thought passed through her head before she opened her mouth and got back to her script. “You and I are taking what happened on Saturday night to our graves.”

  Jordan’s lips twitched. “The car accident?”

  “You know what I mean.” She extracted her hand from his because unnecessary touching was a no-no. “The ban includes flowers like those that arrived yesterday.” The bouquet had been delivered after she’d gotten home. A lovely bouquet of lilies and... “Achillea Angel’s Breath.”

  Jordan smiled. “I asked the florist for a flower with angel in the name.”

  “Of course.”

  “You mean a long line of boyfriends has been sending them to you?”

  “No, you’re the first.” Rats. Most guys went for the familiar and easy—roses, carnations. She didn’t want to give him bonus points for being imaginative. “The flowers were...lovely, but I’m glad you didn’t send them to me at work.”

  Jordan winked. “I’m not going to blow your cover.”

  “Right.” And getting back to the point: “Just erase Saturday night from your mind. Treat it as if it never happened.”

  Jordan looked amused. “You’re asking to rewind the clock. I don’t think I can un-remember how soft your skin is, the way you feel in my arms, how you respond to my touch.”

  She ignored the flutter of awareness at his words. “Really? You can forget eight years ago, but you can’t delete last Saturday?”

  “Ouch.”

  She folded her arms. “Save it for when you’re doing leg presses.”

  Jordan sobered. “I’m sorry I came off as a jerk when we first met years ago.”

  Sera blinked because an apology wasn’t what she was expecting. Still, she couldn’t let him think it mattered all that much to her, so she waved a hand dismissively. “Please. The only reason I brought it up was because I was annoyed by your smooth-player ways.”

  Jordan twisted his lips wryly. “The truth is that I’ve gotten used to laughing off fans’ attention or giving them a brief brush with fame and then moving on.”

  “And those were the moves you were showing Danica at the Puck & Shoot?”

  He tilted his head. “As I said, it’s easy to fall back on some safe maneuvers.”

  “So eight years ago, I might have been just another fan coming on to you?” she persisted.

  Jordan looked pained. “Okay, that may have been my ego talking.”

  She dropped her hands. “Exactly.”

  Jordan held up his hands. “Hey, I’m trying for some honesty here, even if I can’t make amends.”

  Sera lowered her shoulders and sighed. Because, yeah, she’d thought of him as a jerk, but he’d made her look at things from a different perspective. And really, wasn’t it best that she accept his explanation and they drop the whole subject—so they could move on as she wanted to?

  “So where do we go from here?” Jordan asked, seemingly reading her thoughts.

  She pasted a bright smile on her face. “We get started on your physical therapy for the day.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, and Sera held her ground.

  “If that’s the way you want to play it,” he said finally.

  “Play is not what I had in mind.” Then, seeking a distraction, she concentrated on her clipboard, focusing on her notes and flipping through his paperwork. As if she needed reminding about his file and all the details weren’t carved in her memory. Just like Saturday night...

  On the fifth page, though, something that she’d initially skimmed over caught her attention. For the question on prior hospitalizations, Jordan had marked yes and jokingly written Too many to mention.

  Hmm. Sera looked over at him. “This was not the first time you’ve had surgery.”


  “I’m a professional athlete. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re familiar with doctors, even if I’m your first physical therapist.”

  He flashed a brief smile. “I’ve been giving my mother trouble from day one. Literally. I had a collapsed lung as a newborn. I had some respiratory issues because I inhaled meconium.”

  She blinked in surprise because this information didn’t fit the image she had of Jordan Serenghetti. Cool...invincible.

  “And to top it off—” he started counting on his fingers “—a broken arm at age eight, pneumonia at age ten—or wait, was that eleven? And a ruptured appendix at fourteen. I was also in and out of the ER for more minor stuff like an ear infection and a sprained wrist.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Memorable. Just ask the staff at Children’s Hospital.”

  “I’m sure it was for them and you.”

  He grinned.

  Sera felt herself softening and cleared her throat. “Let’s get to work.”

  Jordan followed her from the treatment room to the gym, where they worked on normalizing his gait and improving strength with step exercises and leg presses, among other repetitions. More than a month past surgery, he was regaining mobility.

  “So how am I doing?” he asked as they were wrapping up. “Think I’ll be able to rejoin the team in the fall?”

  Sera tilted her head and paused because, despite his casual tone, she knew the answer mattered to him—a lot. “Mmm, that’s a question for your doctor. You’re recovering nicely, but there’s always some unpredictability post-op. And you’re expecting your knee to perform at a high level in professional hockey.”

  Jordan shrugged. “The PRP therapy that my doctor is doing is helping, too.”

  “Good. Injections can help speed up recovery.” She regarded him, and then offered, “You’ll get there eventually. Does it matter when? The last thing you want to do is exacerbate an injury or sustain another tear by getting back on the ice too soon.”

  “I have some endorsement deals up for negotiation, and my contract with the Razors is coming up for renewal in the next few months. There’s a lot on the table.”