by Anna Sugden
“I’d like to. This time, I promise I won’t change plans at the last minute.”
When she didn’t respond right away, deliberately arranging her papers, laptop and phone on the table, he added, “I enjoyed our breakfast together. I thought you did, too.”
She looked up and nodded slowly.
“Don’t allow unfortunate circumstances to spoil us having a good time. What happened was a one-off. I won’t let you down again.”
“Okay.” Her lips curved in a half smile. “Brunch on Sunday would be nice.”
Relieved and more buoyant than he’d felt all week, he said, “Then let’s tackle these problems.”
“Hit me with your best shot.” She fisted her hands, held them up to her face in a boxer’s protective stance and blew on her knuckles, right, then left.
He laughed, mocking a jab. “Remember to keep your fists up, Rocky.”
The light camaraderie lasted an hour before they began to slip into their firmly entrenched corners. Tension seeped in. Their comments grew sharper.
“I see your point.” Sapphie rested her hip against the edge of the table, hitching the hem of her dress. “But, with respect, I don’t think it will work.”
He ignored the glimpse of smooth thigh as he crossed his arms and squared his stance. “Depends on your perspective. You’re looking at short-term return, whereas I’m thinking longer term. An investment for the future.”
Her back straightened. Finally, some sign of emotion. “Of course we need to consider both, but without the short-term financial return, there won’t be a future.”
“I understand that, but we can’t sacrifice the future either.”
“What sacrifice? It’s simple math.” She strode to the wall of charts and pointed a finger at the ones in her handwriting. “These proposals will bring in greater revenue. If implemented correctly, they could pay for themselves in a few years, enabling you to do some of the things that your team wants.”
“But they don’t generate loyalty. They don’t encourage the fans of the future.” He joined her, waving his hand at his charts. “We’re putting forward ways to bring hockey into the lives of ordinary folk who could become loyal season-ticket holders for generations. Not fat cats in luxury boxes and big companies who buy expensive seats they never use.”
“Last year worked because the team won the Cup.” Sapphie stepped closer, her scent teasing his nostrils.
Scott silently cursed the instant tightness in his pants. “For sure. But if you can entice someone to a game, chances are they’ll be hooked. Maybe even convert them to season tickets next year. The return far outweighs the cost.”
“But there’s a limited amount of money and we need to get the best bang for our buck. Which is why the focus initially has to go to building up those who pay the big money—your fat cats and big companies.” She leaned past him, her arm brushing against his chest, and circled some numbers in red on both sets of charts.
That brief touch seared him and sent fire straight to his groin. He stalked to the table and leaned against it, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“It burns my butt to give more to people who least need it, at the expense of those who cheered for us through every minute of every game, every season.”
“Tight finances mean tough choices.”
At some points, he thought they were getting closer to a resolution, and at others, he realized they were as far apart as ever. They worked through lunch—Doreen brought in sandwiches—and into the afternoon.
All the while, Scott carefully kept his distance from Sapphie, creating a virtual no-go zone around her. He felt like an agitator hovering on the edge of a goaltender’s crease.
At around three, his patience snapped. “I don’t know why we don’t make our lives a hell of a lot simpler and make the fat cats and businesses pay for the real fans.”
Sapphie blinked, as if a bright light had come on, and tilted her head to one side. “Of course. That’s where we’ve been going wrong. We’ve been letting ourselves be restricted by what’s written on the charts.”
He frowned.
She jumped up, ripped the flip chart they’d been using to record their progress off the wall, then tossed it onto the floor. “A cascade is the perfect solution.”
Enthusiasm tinted her cheeks pink. The memory of a similar blush after they’d made love the first time momentarily distracted him. “A what?”
“We cascade money down the chain—so one thing pays for another, turning our smaller pot into a much bigger one and killing several birds with the same stone.” She picked up a marker and sketched out a diagram to illustrate.
“I get it. We get corporate sponsors to fund discounted food and drink packages and cheap ticket deals—like students’ night—as well as merchandise giveaways?”
“Exactly. We invest here.” She drew an arrow at the top of the diagram. “They invest here and here.” She added two more arrows. “We get butts on seats and the benefit of both short-term financial gain and longer-term regular income.” The firm click of her replacing the cap on the marker punctuated her point.
Scott went to stand next to her. “To make this work, we need to ensure what we’re doing in marketing, sales and corporate sponsorship dovetails.” He grabbed a blue pen and drew a circle around her diagram. “Why don’t we make them one department?”
Sapphie opened her mouth but snapped it shut again.
“You’re right.” She tore off the flip-chart page and put it on the table before sketching an organogram on the fresh sheet. “We can set up a new VP role to oversee the three departments.”
After that, the ideas flowed thick and fast. Pages of issues were ripped down and replaced with pages of solutions.
Sapphie stuck the last chart to the wall, then stood back to survey what they’d achieved. “I think we’ve cracked it.”
Scott scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “Either that or we’ll blow everyone’s minds.”
“That, too.” She laughed. “I like this a lot. Marty will love it. I know he will.”
He slung his arm across her shoulders and gave her a brief one-armed hug. She didn’t stiffen or shrug him off. Oh yeah, a good day’s work all round.
She looked up at the clock and did a double take. “Wow. Check out the time.”
He glanced up. “Nine thirty? Seriously?”
The silence and stillness of the building sank in. All the offices were dark.
Sapphie took a sip from her glass and grimaced. “We did fantastic work today. We should celebrate with something better than warm water or cold coffee.”
“I’m starving and you must be, too. How about we walk to the Pubbe? I think they serve food until midnight on Friday.”
“Sounds perfect. Before we go, we should get these charts down and ready for next week.”
They carefully stacked the pages in ordered piles, which they divided between them. After stowing them in their respective offices, they returned to the meeting room to clean up.
They were pushing the chairs under the table when the lights clicked off, plunging the room into darkness. Fluorescent emergency lamps out in the hallway flickered to life almost immediately, casting a faint bluish light into the room through the glass walls.
“Time to get out of here,” Scott said, heading toward the door.
“Definitely.” Sapphie pulled out her phone and switched on the flashlight app. “I’ll grab my purse and briefcase.”
They met at the elevator. Inside the car, the dim light created a cozy cocoon. They stood, slightly apart, staring forward. As the elevator descended, the desire Scott had struggled to keep under control all day began to pulse through his veins.
He turned his gaze slowly and saw her watching him. Her dark, wide pupils seemed to show the same hunger that was pounding thro
ugh him.
She moistened her lower lip with her tongue.
He longed to follow the same path with his. Instead, he shifted his body so he was facing her. Almost touching, but not quite.
Without dropping his gaze, she turned toward him, taking the extra half step that brought them flush against each other. Thigh to thigh. Chest to chest.
Her head tilted upward. His lowered until their mouths were barely separated.
Her lips parted in invitation. One he couldn’t refuse.
There was nothing polite about their kiss. Nor about the way their bodies fused together. His arms banded around her, pressing her closer. Hers wound around his neck, her hand holding his head firmly in place. Like he’d want to pull away.
The judder and bump of the elevator reaching the ground floor gave scant warning that the doors were about to open, exposing their kiss to the foyer. For a moment, his grip tightened. Hers, too. Then they drew apart, returning to their original positions as the doors slid noiselessly apart.
The security guards barely raised their heads from the small TV showing a baseball game to say good-night.
Striding ahead purposefully, Scott focused on getting to the rotating door. Beside him, Sapphie’s heels clicked steadily, marking the distance to freedom.
Once outside, they maintained the semblance of normality until they were round the corner and heading toward the pub. At the central fountain, they stopped and burst out laughing.
Their eyes met and the laughter faded.
Suddenly, the pub seemed too far away. Dinner, an unnecessary waste of time.
Scott’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten since that quick sandwich at lunch. But by the time they had some food, the moment would be gone.
“We could get takeout,” Sapphie said quickly.
Once again her mind was in sync with his. Thank God.
“There’s a pizza place around the corner from my house. We can order now and pick it up on the way.”
She smiled. “Thin crust, anything but anchovies and pineapple on mine.”
He pulled out his cell and called in their order. “They’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Then we should get going.”
He held out his hand and she took it. Fingers entwined, they hurried toward the parking garage.
They barely stopped on the way home—the lights were in their favor and the pizzas were ready when they arrived.
There was a moment of hesitation as he approached his house.
Somehow, she must have sensed his hesitation, because as he pulled into the driveway, Sapphie laid her hand on his thigh. “Are you okay about this? We can go to my apartment.”
He wanted to grab the out she’d offered him but shook his head as he reached for the garage-door opener. “Uh...the pizza will go cold.”
“It can be reheated. I have the necessary appliances and know how to use them.” Her smile was understanding. “Besides, it’ll go cold regardless.”
Scott stopped the car. His finger hovered over the button of the opener. Delicate moment. It had taken too long to get to this point. He didn’t want to blow it.
Sapphie gently pushed his hand toward the wheel. “You know the way. Step on it.”
He didn’t argue and headed for her apartment.
The elevator ride to her floor was different from the one earlier. This car was brightly lit and they weren’t alone. Although Scott and Sapphie stood against the rear wall, she was tucked into his side while his arm circled her shoulders. She carried the pizza boxes, he both their briefcases. They smiled politely at the seemingly endless stream of people who got on and off, delaying their arrival.
Finally, it was their turn. They exited the elevator sedately and walked down the corridor to her apartment as if there were no hurry. At her door, Scott took the boxes, while she dug in her purse for her key.
No sooner was the door closed and bolted than everything hit the floor—bags, briefcases, boxes—as Scott and Sapphie came together in a kiss that threatened to heat up those pizzas all by itself. Shoes were toed off. Jackets joined them.
“Bedroom?” he murmured against her lips as he finally worked the zipper of the sunny yellow dress that had driven him crazy all day.
She tilted her head backward, indicating the end of the hallway, as her fingers unbuttoned his shirt.
The only awkwardness was managing the removal of clothes while not letting go of each other or breaking off the kiss. By the time they reached her bedroom, they were naked. They tumbled to the bed, still entwined.
The crisp white sheets were cool against Scott’s heated body. Compared to the smoothness of Sapphie’s skin, they felt scratchy and rough.
He tried to hold back, but Sapphie encouraged him, demanding what she wanted. He didn’t resist.
Her slick, wet heat welcomed him as he plunged inside her. She encased him, drawing him deeper until it wasn’t a matter of if he could hold on but when he would give up trying.
She came with a cry, pulsing around him. Barely a breath later, what little control he had left slipped away and he succumbed, too.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SUNRISE OVER Manhattan was a glorious sight.
Wrapped in Scotty’s arms, Sapphie watched the colorful lights of the City that Never Sleeps wink out, turning the buildings into that famous silhouette against the pink-and-orange Sunday-morning sky. Curled up on one of the lounge chairs on her balcony with a sheet covering them against the cool air, she felt as though New York put on a show just for them.
“I wish I was a photographer and could capture the beauty,” she said softly.
“Yeah, me, too.” The tender note in his gravelly voice told her he wasn’t talking solely about the view.
Sapphie leaned against his shoulder and kissed his jaw. He turned his head slightly and captured her lips. A soft, gentle kiss that made her heart catch with its simplicity and leap with its power and emotion.
They’d barely left each other’s sides since her apartment door had closed behind them on Friday night, sealing them away from the rest of the world. After a midnight feast of reheated pizza, they’d spent most of yesterday in bed, emerging only to accept a lunch delivery of subs from the local deli. Which they enjoyed in bed. In the evening, they’d showered together, then moved to the sofa, had another delivery—Chinese—and watched classic movies on TV.
They’d carefully avoided defining the present or looking to the future, content to enjoy being with each other. Aware, though nothing was said aloud, that their time together was short.
Biting back a yawn, she said, “We really should get some shut-eye. A couple hours in the past thirty-six are not enough to sustain me anymore.”
Scotty’s chuckle reverberated against her back. “There was me thinking it was only my aging body that couldn’t cope. You’ve worn me out.”
“I think your aging body has coped very well.” Her smile was sultry. “Any better and we’d both need medical assistance.” She trailed a finger over his thigh, delighting at the stirring in his groin. “Retired or not, your stamina is impressive.”
“I never thought I’d be grateful for all those hours training. But don’t tell my coaches that I might have found a better use for that stamina.”
“Might have?” She arched an eyebrow and withdrew her hand.
“Definitely have.” He guided her fingers to where they’d been, then rested his hand over hers. “Much as I’d love to prove that to you, I definitely need some z’s before I attempt anything more. The problem is I don’t have the energy to move.”
“Me neither.” This time, the yawn escaped. She snuggled against him and closed her eyes. “We can rest right here for a couple of hours.”
“Good idea.” His voice was drowsy, as if he was already half-asleep.<
br />
Her last thought before she drifted away was that she’d never before felt comfortable enough with a man to simply sleep with him.
* * *
THE SUN WAS high in the sky when they awoke.
The angry cawing of two seagulls fighting over a prawn cracker on the railing of her balcony wasn’t the gentlest alarm, but it was entertaining viewing. Especially when the birds’ tug-of-war ended with them losing the cracker over the edge. As they dived after the falling treasure, Sapphie shook her head.
“See, if they’d worked together, they’d each have half a cracker. I might use that example in my next talk on teamwork.”
“I’m with the gulls.” Scotty tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Who wants half a cracker when you could have it all? You play to win.”
She laughed. “Somehow I figured you’d side with the birds.”
“I’m hungry enough to go down and fight them for the food.”
“Me, too.” She twisted her lips. “It’s Sunday and you promised me brunch and I won’t be denied. I’ve been looking forward to my pancake breakfast for two weeks.”
“Like I’d dare to keep you from those pancakes. We’ll go as soon as you’re ready.”
“Let me grab a quick shower.”
“I’ll do the same, if that’s okay? I’d like to stop by my house to change my clothes.”
“Of course.” She started to move when he stopped her.
“Have you got to work this afternoon or can you play hooky?”
She should decline whatever he wanted to do—she’d already lost one day of the weekend. Instead, she wanted to say to hell with the tasks waiting in her briefcase and on her laptop. Would it hurt to take another day off? She could make up for it later. Especially as they’d soon be going their separate ways.
Her stomach dropped. She didn’t want to think about the end.
Her silence must have given him a clue to her thoughts, because he said ruefully, “We haven’t actually had a date. Partly my fault, I know, having to cancel last week’s brunch. And partly because of the long hours we’ve been putting in. Anyway, this could be our first official date.”
