by Anna Sugden
Sapphie didn’t know why his words made her nervous. He wasn’t pushing, trying to charm her into giving in by being endearing—that part came naturally. Still, no one had ever made her consider putting work aside before.
Overthinking it much?
“What did you have in mind?”
“Taking the ferry into the city and heading to Central Park for the afternoon. I’ll even treat you to an ice cream.”
“You’re not going to suggest one of those horse-and-carriage rides everyone thinks is so romantic, are you?” She wrinkled her nose. “In this weather, the stink of the horse manure will be unbearable.”
He laughed. “I was thinking more of a stroll, maybe catch a softball game or see if there’s a theater-in-the-park performance on.”
Despite the butterflies in her stomach, she couldn’t resist. It was just one afternoon.
“Okay, let’s do it. Brunch—because you’re not getting out of that—followed by an afternoon in the park.”
“Great.” His grin did naughty things to her insides.
“Make yourself at home while I take that shower. I won’t be long.”
“You don’t want me to help scrub your back?”
“You know I’d love that, but we’d get—” she kissed the tip of his nose “—distracted—” then the curve of his chin “—a lot.” She pressed her lips to his, quick and hard. “By the time we surfaced again, I’d have missed my brunch.” She jumped up and quickly moved out of reach of his grasping hand, taking the sheet with her.
Which left Scotty naked.
She feasted her eyes on his magnificent body—from his broad chest to his flat stomach and deliciously, impressively lower—for a few moments. Okay, more than a few.
He grinned unselfconsciously and laced his fingers behind his head, to give her an unfettered view of his finely honed muscles and his proud erection. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here for you.”
“Not fair,” she admonished, even as moisture pooled deep within her. “Those pancakes are calling my name.”
“Something else is, too. Loud and clear.”
She released a put-upon sigh and let the sheet drop to her feet. “I can’t leave you in that state. But we’ll have to be quick.”
“I’m primed for quick. I’ll make it up to you with slow later.”
“In that case...” She deliberately swayed her hips as she sashayed to him, climbed onto the lounger and straddled him.
She closed her eyes at the waves of pleasure that rippled through her as she lowered herself slowly onto his hot, hard length until he filled her completely.
For a few seconds she couldn’t move—the sensation was exquisite.
All thought of food was pushed from her brain as it focused on a completely different hunger raging through her body. One that couldn’t be satisfied with maple-syrup-drenched pancakes. That could be slaked only by the man she was riding.
Brunch could wait.
* * *
SIMPLE PLEASURES.
The sun on her back, an ice cream in her hand and a gorgeous man by her side. Sapphie and Scotty sat on a bench, watching a hard-fought coed softball game between the blues and the reds. The grassy area around them was filled with families and couples on blankets. The path behind them had a steady stream of passersby—sunburned tourists, sweaty runners and in-line skaters, parents with kids in strollers and dog walkers—all taking advantage of the Indian summer.
It was the perfect afternoon. And she hadn’t once felt guilty about the work she should have been doing.
They’d made it to the diner for brunch—by the skin of their teeth.
While he’d showered, Sapphie had put on a floaty dress and flat sandals. She’d also found a broad-brimmed straw hat that would protect her face and shoulders. Then they’d headed to Scott’s house.
Sapphie had waited in the car while he’d gone inside to get changed. She’d sensed his discomfort Friday night and had understood how difficult it might be for him to take a woman into what had been his family home. She hadn’t seen the need to force the issue. It wasn’t like she would be the new Mrs. Matthews.
Admittedly, she had been curious to see inside his home. It hadn’t been what she’d expected at all. She’d imagined something solid and traditional. Historic, even. Brick and aged wood, with gingerbread trim on the gables, colorful shutters and a wraparound porch.
Instead, the house was a sleek, white-stone-and-smoked-glass ultramodern McMansion. Sure, it would have suited any number of the millionaire young bucks lighting up the NHL. But it seemed totally wrong for Scotty. Even the manicured lawn and artistically shaped shrubs seemed out of place. Where were the old trees—perfect for tire swings or a tree house?
She’d hoped, for his sake, there was somewhere inside that was more suited to him. If ever anyone had needed a man cave, it was Scotty.
But perhaps she had him wrong. How well did she know him, after all? A couple weekends tearing up the sheets didn’t make her an expert on the man. Strangely, she found herself wanting to know him better, even though she knew that would be unwise. Maybe there could be a middle ground between knowing only his preferences in bed and knowing everything about him.
A roar from the winning blues interrupted her thoughts. Sapphie looked to see both teams converging on the mound to exchange good-natured backslaps. She noticed one guy in red getting a lot of cuffs to the back of his head from his teammates.
“That’ll teach him,” Scotty said with a chuckle. “No matter how cute the blonde, you’ve got to keep your eye on the ball. That dropped catch cost them the game.”
“Some blondes are too attractive to ignore.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “We’re much prettier than some silly old ball. Or puck.”
Squeezing her shoulder, he pulled her toward him and dropped a kiss on her lips. “I’m glad you didn’t have seats on the glass when I was still playing.”
“There was me thinking you’d be spurred on to break your own scoring records.”
He laughed. “That wouldn’t be hard. I was never much of a scorer. With you to inspire me, I’d probably have tallied double digits in goals—assuming I didn’t trip over my laces trying to impress the gorgeous girl in the expensive seats.”
“I could have held up a homemade sign for you. I Heart Scotty.”
“As long as you didn’t promise some poor kid a puppy if I scored.”
“And break his heart? I think not.”
“Ouch. Thanks for the support.”
“Aw, you know I’ve always been your number-one fan.”
He frowned. “You won’t break my ankle with a mallet because I retired, will you?”
“As if. That would be totally counterproductive under the circumstances.”
“Phew.” He mocked wiping the sweat from his forehead, then eyed her curiously. “You didn’t have the hots for Bad Boy or the Russian Rocket?”
“Nope. I’m a tried-and-true captain’s girl.”
His grin was smug. “I like getting one over the pretty boys.”
“I’m sure you’ve had your share of devoted fans over the years.”
“Maybe back in the day, but it was so long ago I don’t really remember. They seem to prefer the guys with the quick hands to the ones who can block a puck.”
“Personally, I think your slow hands are perfect.”
“Correct answer.” He planted another kiss on her lips. This one was slow, to match his hands. “I guess we should head back.”
Sapphie was pleased to hear the reluctance in his voice that matched her own. “I suppose so. We both have stuff to do to get ready for tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He got to his feet and held out a hand to help her. “There’s no rest for the wicked. But, man, was this weekend worth it.”
Tw
ining her fingers with his, she smiled. “Definitely.”
Following the dispersing crowd, they wandered through the park, heading toward the southern edge. When they reached the line of famous horse-drawn carriages, the eau de manure was as pungent as she’d predicted. She and Scotty looked at each other and laughed as they watched a family of Japanese tourists wearing cotton masks clamber aboard.
“Don’t think that’ll keep the smell out.”
Scotty and she sat on the top deck of the ferry to Jersey. His arm was around her shoulders. Her hand was on his thigh. They didn’t say much, as if concerned that words would break up the magical cloud they’d been wrapped in.
The short ride to her apartment seemed to take no time at all. She wanted to invite him in but sensed that would be a mistake. She was also a little scared—partly that he’d refuse, but also that he’d accept.
Scotty walked her into her building and waited for the elevator with her.
“So, I’ll see you in the office, bright and early,” she said, trying to sound like she wouldn’t miss him. Which was crazy. It was one weekend.
“I’ll be there, ready to tackle those flip charts. I swear I’ll see them in my dreams. Marching along like some weird animation sequence.”
“Thanks for that. Now I’ll have ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ stuck in my head all night.” She sang a few bars, then rolled her eyes. “That was the singing equivalent of babbling.” She puffed out a breath. “I’ve had a lovely time.”
“Me, too. I’d like to go out again, before next weekend.”
Her heart thumped. “Okay.”
“The Cats’ first preseason game is on Thursday evening. Would you like to come with me? I’ll be in the team’s suite, so we’ll be surrounded by people from work, but we could grab something to eat afterward.”
“Some girls prefer diamonds and shoes—I’m definitely partial to a nice pair of Louboutins or Zanottis—but the way to my heart is paved with hockey.”
“Then it’s a date.” The word had a deliberate emphasis.
“Absolutely.”
Scotty leaned forward to kiss her, just as the elevator arrived with a loud ding.
“Damn bell.” He slammed his hand against the open door to keep it there, then continued with what he’d started—a leisurely kiss that set her body alight and her pulse racing.
He stepped back. “Sleep well. Sweet dreams.”
“You, too.” She smiled. “Scratch that. I want your dreams to be anything but sweet.”
“Yeah. That won’t be a problem.”
She blew him a kiss as the doors slid closed. Sapphie was still smiling, and her body was still on fire, when she arrived at her floor.
Her apartment seemed even more empty and cold than when she’d arrived from Chicago. Sapphie poured herself a drink and wandered onto the balcony. She leaned on the railing and watched the ferries sailing across the Hudson. Despite the view and the sunset—which was as pretty as the sunrise—she felt restless. She should head inside and tackle the work waiting for her, but she couldn’t be bothered.
What was Scotty doing? Was he home yet? Was he thinking about her? Missing her?
For crying out loud. Sapphie straightened. Next she’d be sitting wistfully by the phone, wondering if he’d call. This was a bad sign. It couldn’t continue. She wouldn’t let it.
When her phone did ring, it was Marty.
“How’s it going?” he boomed. “No word of a body disappearing to rest with Jimmy Hoffa’s in the Meadowlands, so I take it you haven’t killed each other yet.”
“No. The bloodshed has been minimal. Actually, it’s going pretty well.” She gave him a heads-up on the direction they were taking. “We’ve still got a way to go, but we’ll have this nailed by the time you get here.”
“I never doubted it. Sounds like you’ve found a good solution.”
“I believe we have. Plenty of opportunity to make the franchise financially sound in the short term, with the potential for strong growth in the medium-to-long term.”
“And you’ve tried to make it results-proof. We both know that a couple of poor seasons, especially if the team misses the play-offs, can turn an organization upside down.”
“Exactly. We smooth out the peaks and troughs, which also protects the team’s ability to get and keep the players it needs.”
“Great. I look forward to the final presentation. Now that all you have left is to pull it together, you’ll already be thinking about your next job.”
She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t really given it much thought. “Of course. I’ll head to Chicago for a week, and then I have to be in Minneapolis to oversee a project.”
Somehow she’d find her way to New Jersey, even if only for a weekend. She did it for the occasional hockey game, so why not for her favorite retired player?
“Is your passport up-to-date?”
“Of course. Why?” Her curiosity was aroused. Another deal must be in the works.
“Because you might be needing it soon. I’m looking into some stuff in Europe. If it works out, I’ll need you to evaluate the business.”
“Europe sounds nice. London, Paris, Rome, Munich...” She trailed off, hoping for a clue.
He was too smart for that. “All I’ll say is that it involves a round ball.”
Marty was looking at a soccer franchise? She knew there were several available for purchase in each of the countries and that he enjoyed the sport.
“Interested?” Marty’s tone said he knew her answer was a foregone conclusion.
“Definitely.” Her mind raced ahead. Which team? Which country? She should watch some games from each of the main professional leagues.
“Get your ducks in a row, because if it works out, you could be heading across the Atlantic in less than a month.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
By the time she hung up, Sapphie was totally in work mode. She fired up her laptop and opened her emails. The clock was chiming midnight when she finished.
As she crawled into bed, she spotted the pillow that still had the indentation of Scotty’s head. That was when she realized she hadn’t thought about him in hours.
See, not a problem after all. What happened earlier was a blip. She could handle this dating thing. She just had to keep it in perspective and not get caught up in the romance.
Still, as she drifted to sleep, she thought about the weekend. About their time together. About his touch. And how the bed felt lonely without him.
* * *
“I’LL HAND OVER to Sapphie for the next part of the presentation.”
Scott took his seat, relieved that his section was over, and drained his glass of water. Beside him, Sapphie smiled supportively before rising to take his place in front of the screen. As she began to speak, Scott surveyed the boardroom, which looked and felt different from the meeting three weeks ago.
Marty hadn’t brought his full team with him, so there were gaps around the table. From the Cats’ side, Callum and the heads of the departments were all present.
The atmosphere was less combative. Partly because Scott and Sapphie had chosen to show a united front by sitting next to each other. Also, they’d made sure to get buy-in from Callum ahead of today’s meeting. The GM had been very supportive and pleased that they’d pulled together a plan he could back 100 percent.
Of course, they weren’t out of the woods yet. Marty still had to approve. Sapphie believed he’d back their play, but Scott had learned never to assume the win was in the bag until the final horn sounded. Too many last-second goals had taught him well. There were the key department heads who would be affected by the organizational changes. At least one would be very unhappy.
Still, the nervous twisting in his gut was caused by something else entirely. The p
roject was all over save the implementation—which would be left to Callum and his team. There was no reason for Sapphie to stick around.
Scott had known this day was coming and thought he’d gotten his head around it. But now it was here, he wasn’t so sure.
It had been a great couple weeks. They’d spent every moment they possibly could together, both at work and outside. Lunches, dinners and even a couple breakfasts after nights of the most amazing lovemaking he’d ever experienced. Last weekend had been a mirror of the previous one, except they’d headed to Battery Park and, like a couple of tourists, had taken the boat tour to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.
But as much fun as they’d had together, they’d carefully avoided talking about how they’d handle what came next.
In the short term, Sapphie was heading to Chicago and then to Minneapolis. There was an underlying assumption they’d continue to see each other when their schedules allowed. She wanted to be here for opening night and Scott would accompany the team on their early-season road trip, which included a game against the Wild, at the same time as she’d be in Minnesota.
She’d been a little cagey about her plans after that. He suspected she might be waiting until they discovered how things worked between them once she was no longer in Jersey.
Scott was happy enough to play it by ear. For now.
“With that in mind, this is the new structure we propose for those departments.” Sapphie’s words interrupted his thoughts.
The organogram that appeared on the screen was a sign that she was winding up the presentation. The moment of truth was here.
A quick glance around the room was encouraging. Aside from Darren, who was scowling, the mood seemed to be upbeat. Success was definitely in the air.
Marty’s face was impassive. That wasn’t unexpected—it was how he rolled. But Sapphie had worked with him long enough to be able to gauge his support depending on what he did after the presentation was over. If Marty asked Callum for his thoughts, that would be a clear marker that they were good. If he replaced the cap on his fountain pen and aligned it on his notepad before he spoke, then he had a major issue.
