by Joan Kilby
“That was freely given. Of course I’ll pay. I don’t want you out of pocket.” Tina opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but he cut her off. “Don’t tell me it’s not a problem, because I know what it’s like to be on a limited income.” A long time ago for him, but those days of childhood poverty had left their mark. “How much?”
“I’m serious. It’s on the house.” Tina clipped off the price tag and tossed it away before he could grab it and look.
“Your boss isn’t going to be happy.”
“She won’t mind when I tell her how much you helped me. The real handyman didn’t even show up. If you hadn’t come along, the boutique would be in trouble.” She expertly wrapped the present and taped the ends shut. Her eyes danced merrily as she presented him with the gift.
Luke was stumped. He literally had no clue what a designer scarf would be worth. When he’d been a hockey player his manager had taken care of presents for whatever woman he was dating at the time, and all the bills went to his accountant. But given the upscale nature of the boutique… He put away his credit card and plunked down a handful of hundred dollar bills. “You’re taking the money. No arguments.”
Tina opened her mouth as if to protest. He threw her a warning look. She shrugged and opened the cash register. “Okay, you win.”
He picked up the slim wrapped package. “Have you changed your mind about dinner?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m exhausted.” Sure enough, she had to cover a huge yawn with her hand. “And there’s that early morning.”
“We don’t have to make it a late night.” In case she was wavering, he stepped up the charm offensive with his best smile. “We could go to bed real early.”
Her hands went uncharacteristically still. They were small and neat, with clear nail polish. Her only jewelry was a thin gold chain around her wrist and a delicate gold ring set with a small ruby. It was probably fake, but it was pretty enough.
“I was joking about bed.” Unless she liked the idea.
She raised cloudy eyes to his. “Why did you kiss me earlier?”
Huh? Did she even have to ask? If ever there was a no brainer… “You’re beautiful. I couldn’t help myself.” He shifted uneasily. “Look, if I offended you, I’m sorry.”
A curious expression crossed her oval face, part wistful, part uncertain, part…angry? Her emotions were so volatile, so close to the surface, it was hard to know what was coming next.
“So you think I’m sexy even though I’m just a sales girl?”
Just a sales girl? Where did that come from? “Who cares what you do for a living? Who you are as a person is more important. I’ve barely been able to keep my hands off you all afternoon.”
“I…have a confession to make, too,” she said.
“Yeah?” Spotting a tiny fleck of sugar on her cheek from the pastry she’d eaten earlier he leaned forward and licked it off with the tip of his tongue. Beautiful and delicious. His groin stirred. He nuzzled her cheek, breathing in the scent of her skin. “What is it? Something naughty, I hope.”
“I…” she began then paused a beat. And another.
“Go on,” he encouraged in a deliberately suggestive tone as he ran a finger just under the neckline of her dress. Her skin was unbelievably soft and warm. “What kind of kinkiness are you going to admit to?”
Her throaty laugh made him think maybe he wasn’t too far off the mark. He was positively intrigued, his mind conjuring a dozen scenarios, each one hotter than the next. He arched a brow, daring her to tell him.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Tugging on a springy lock of dark hair, she shot him an enigmatic glance. “Not that I’ve ever done it before but sometimes I think it would be fun to pretend to be I’m someone I’m not.”
Interesting, but that didn’t tell him enough. “What do you mean?”
“You know, to escape reality just for a little while. Be someone different.” From the way her eyes batted up at him, all big and innocent in her pretty face, he got the impression this wasn’t something she normally shared. She crossed her arms, suddenly shy and uncertain.
He scratched his head and tried to lighten the mood. “Well…I’m happy being me. But I do a pretty good impression of a pirate king.” He didn’t normally go for lame-ass voiceovers, but she looked so lost and earnest. “Would you care to hear it?”
Her entire face brightened, and in that moment, he probably would’ve walked a plank to see that smile. “Avast me hearties,” he teased. “Take this wench to my cabin for immediate ravishing.” He leaned in and winked. “Wait till you see my cutlass.”
She rolled her eyes, but they were sparkling again. “I’m sure it’s very impressive.”
“So you’ll come out with me tonight?”
“You’re very tempting, but I’m not dating. I need to focus on my work.”
As a brush off, that was right up there with “I need to wash my hair.” Had he read her wrong, only imagined the chemistry between them? Maybe she was simply a warm, expressive, naturally affectionate person who responded to everyone the way she’d had with him.
Nah. He was no Einstein, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew women. A very physical and compelling vibe was bouncing back and forth between them. He hadn’t come looking for it, and it wasn’t exactly convenient given how busy he was with the bar and his children’s foundation, not to mention coaching the disabled kids’ hockey team. But he couldn’t walk away.
On the other hand, he wasn’t a guy who thought women really meant yes when they said no. If she had reservations she didn’t want to tell him about, he wasn’t going to pressure her.
“All right. But if you change your mind, you’ve got my card. If you need anything at all, give me a call.”
“Si, va bene.” She came around the counter and linked her arm with his as naturally as if they were old friends—or new lovers—and walked him to the door. “Once again, ciao, and thank you for your help. And for…everything.”
“I’ll see you soon, I hope. Tina—”
“You must go now.” She closed the door slowly, pushing him out.
He poked his head back inside. “Was the pirate schtick too corny? I’ll try something else. Remember, I can be anyone you want me to be.”
For a second, she wavered, her luminous eyes glazing over as if she was fantasizing about the possibilities.
“You like cowboys?” he went on. “I do a mean John Wayne impression.”
She snapped out of it. “Ciao,” she said firmly, laughing, and shut the door.
Twice. She’d turned him down twice. He, Luke Pedersen, hailed as the greatest player since Wayne Gretsky. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been rejected by a woman. His sister would probably say it was character-building for him to be taken down a peg. But it sucked.
What’s more, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so attracted to a woman. And it wasn’t just her looks, although the little Italian next door had a body that wouldn’t quit. There’d been passion and pride and something he couldn’t quite name in her big, beautiful eyes. There was just something about her. It intrigued him. He wouldn’t beg—and, shit, he’d come damn close to doing just that—but he wanted to see her again. It dawned on him that he would see her again, likely every day, with her now working right next door. She’d come around. With that thought, he whistled as he strolled through Hat Trick’s front door.
At the bar, he quickly settled back to work, replacing the skirting board in the kitchen where he’d had new ovens, sinks and stainless steel cabinets installed. With a practiced hand, he hammered home the nails with a couple of taps. The electrician was finishing up the wiring, and the plasterer was patching up behind him. Luke didn’t mind pitching in. Before he’d turned pro and started getting fat contracts, he’d worked construction in small towns all over the upstate area.
While he worked, his thoughts kept returning to Tina. She was a whirlwind of energy, constantly on the mov
e, hands gesturing, eyes lighting up like a scoreboard, broadcasting her every emotion. He’d love to see her with her hair down. His fingers had itched to pull out the clip holding up the thick, curling mass. And her Italian accent was incredibly sexy. Combined with her sultry voice—wow.
If his old teammates could have seen him carrying mannequins in a ladies’ boutique, they would have laughed him off the ice. But Tina had that kind of power to make a guy want to do anything for her.
He wondered what she’d been thinking when she’d grabbed hold of his tool belt to get his tape measure. And how did she manage to smell sweet and spicy at the same time? When she was up on the ladder, with the smooth olive skin of her calf at eye level, he’d wanted to nibble and lick his way up to the back of her knee. And higher….
Whoa, he needed to put a lid on it. He would—he promised himself he would—but there was just something so intriguing about the woman. Something he couldn’t puzzle out. Between his childhood dealing with his mother’s bullshit, the years on the ice facing-off with opponents, and the time since spent in the bar, he’d become something of an expert at quickly reading people. And something about Tina didn’t add up.
What was her story? She didn’t seem like the type to play hard to get. More like a woman who went after what she wanted. Yet despite her fiery, bossy temperament there’d been moments when she’d seemed vulnerable, almost fragile. How could she even ask if he thought she was sexy? Had someone hurt her, badly enough to make her wary? If so, he’d gladly pummel the bastard.
“What does a guy have to do to get a beer around here?” a voice called over the whine of power drills and hammering.
“Sorry, we’re not open—” Luke emerged from the back to see his old friend and financial advisor, Allan Montes. “Al, buddy. What the hell are you doing so far from Wall Street?”
“I’ve been trying to call you.” Allan, with his fancy suit and three hundred dollar haircut, slid onto a stool. Geeze, the man’s hair was as polished as the mahogany bar. When Luke and his teammates had been in the race for the Cup, they’d go weeks without shaving, let alone getting haircuts. But athletes were funny like that, bending to superstitions and dedicated to odd rituals. He ran a hand over his smooth jaw. Those days were long gone but they still made him smile.
“Guess you couldn’t hear your cell over all this noise,” Allan said. “What the hell are you doing, anyway? As if the bar and the foundation aren’t enough for you, now you’re moonlighting as a carpenter?”
“I want the kitchen finished so I can reopen tomorrow.” Luke picked up his cell phone from under the counter. “I forgot this here while I was next door at the boutique.”
He checked his log and sure enough Allan had left a couple of messages. There was one from his mother too. His jaw tightened as he hit delete. It had been a while since she’d called begging for money, but he wasn’t convinced her lifelong gambling problem was miraculously cured. It hurt like hell that he couldn’t trust his own mother to tell the truth, but he—and his whole family—had been burned too many times.
“Boutique?” Allan’s eyebrows rose as he shook a handful of peanuts from the glass carafe on the bar into his hand. “Got a new girlfriend?”
“Nope.” Luke took a couple of long necks out of the fridge, cracked them open and slid one across the bar. “I was helping the sales assistant with some heavy lifting.”
“Was she hot?” Allan tossed a peanut in his mouth.
“She was all right.” He and Allan had spent many a night clubbing together and sharing stories of the women they hooked up with. But right now his friend’s salacious tone grated. “What brings you to my den of iniquity so early in the evening?”
“Bad news, that’s what.” Allan wiped his hands on a bev nap and reached for his briefcase. He opened it to take out a manila envelope. “I’ve been doing the yearly audit of the foundation.”
“Oh?” He didn’t like the ominous set to Allan’s jaw. Luke had founded the Disabled Children’s Sports Foundation after he’d retired from the Rangers. What had started as a tax shelter quickly became something much more. First he’d taught Stella’s little boy, Timmy, who was in a wheel chair, to skate. Then he’d gotten more disabled kids involved and started coaching. Now his disabled kids’ hockey team and the foundation that supported it were the most important things in his life after his family. He poured most of his spare cash, time, and energy into the charity. “Give it to me straight.”
“Bottom line—you’re up shit creek.” Allan tossed a summary sheet across the bar. “The board bought what they thought was an amazeballs financial product that the bank was pushing like crack cocaine. Turns out it was mostly junk bonds. Now the market’s falling, and the bank is calling in the bonds, but they’re worthless. The directors tried to ‘fix’ the situation by selling other, blue chip stocks to pay for it, hoping to get back on an even keel. But it was too little, too late. The foundation is tapped out and left owing a big chunk of change.”
“What?” Luke shook his head. The board of directors were all solid businessmen. Or so he’d thought. This couldn’t be real. “When did all this happen? How could it happen? Why didn’t they check into the investments more closely?”
“Happened months ago. The board kept it quiet, hoping to get out of hot water,” Allan said. “The people who put these financial products together are unscrupulous and good at hiding the bad elements. The board probably knew they were taking a risk but your mission statement is to expand so they took a chance. Unfortunately for all concerned it turned to shit.”
A sinkhole opened up in Luke’s stomach. “Fuck.”
“Precisely.”
“What does this mean for the kids?”
Allan’s mouth thinned to a grim line. “Unless you find five million dollars in the next week you’ll have to severely curtail the programs. There’s very little money left for operating costs and forget about expanding.”
Luke swore again and kicked a plastic crate out of his way. He could put expanding the Foundation’s reach on hold but to cut the existing program? Hell, no. “They’ve got games lined up. They’ve been practicing so hard.” And not just the hockey team he coached but all the other programs for disabled kids, some of whom were playing sports for the first time in their lives. There were chapters in ten cities on the eastern seaboard and they were growing all the time.
Allan shrugged unhappily. “We’ll talk to the bank, ask them to extend a line of credit until—”
“Until what?” Luke set his beer bottle down hard. “I’m not going to get another multi-million dollar hockey contract. The bar pays its own way and makes a tidy profit but it doesn’t bring in enough revenue to support the foundation.” All he could think of was the disappointment on the kids’ faces if he had to tell them they couldn’t play hockey anymore.
“We had practice this morning,” he told Allan. “Those kids are so gutsy. You should see Timmy zipping around the ice in his wheel chair like he’s driving Formula One. We’ll make the playoffs if we win our game this week. If there is another game, that is.” His fist tightened on his beer bottle. “I need to raise money, fast.”
Allan sighed. “You could sell some property. Those houses you bought for your parents and your sister and brother. Together they’re worth nearly five mill.”
Luke was shaking his head before Allan even finished. “Forget it. Those were gifts. No way would I ever ask for them back.”
“I didn’t think so.” Allan paused. “The bar then? With a deed of sale the bank would likely give you a couple months leeway while it’s in escrow. It won’t be enough, but it might buy you a little time.”
The bar provided income that supplemented his family’s households. ’Cause sure as shit, he might have bought them million dollar homes, but that didn’t mean they could afford the taxes and insurance and utilities on them. Then there was the extra his mom needed every month after she poured her grocery money down the slot machines the way she’d done ever since
he could remember. She hadn’t done it for months, but that could just mean she’d found some other sucker to support her habits. He wondered briefly if he should’ve called her back, and then pushed the thought aside. She’d made her choices; the disabled kids his foundation supported…they never had a choice.
“I could sell my apartment,” Luke said. “It’s worth a bundle.”
“And then where are you going to live?” Allan demanded. “You love that place.”
“I’ll find something smaller. It’s no big deal. The clock is ticking. Nothing means as much to me as the foundation.” It was the simple truth. He’d been coaching the same bunch of boys for two years now, and while Timmy was naturally his favorite being his nephew, he loved them all. He knew about their individual challenges and their families and how hard it was for many of them to cope. Hockey was the bright spot in their lives. It was his, too.
“You do realize that I can’t, as your advisor, recommend that you compromise your life or your investments for this. Right?”
Luke frowned. “I don’t expect you to understand—”
“I’ve seen you with those kids. I get it. Hell, I’d make a sizable donation if I thought it would help. But this isn’t salvageable, Luke. It’s five million dollars. It can take years to raise that much money for any organization—”
“I’m not letting it fail. I won’t.” Too many kids depended on it. For so many of them, it was their only break, their only escape from the world.
“You’re not going to help them much if you end up sleeping under a bridge,” Allan said. “Don’t do anything rash.”
The operating expenses for the programs he’d established were huge. Rink time, transportation, equipment, custom prosthetics and physical therapists… The kids literally got the best support the foundation could offer. Then there were the doctors’ bills that were supplemented. He knew how costly treatments were for children with disabilities, and he had families depending on the support that his foundation provided. With dozens of teams and almost two hundred kids relying on him, there was no way he could let his foundation fold.
