A Perfect Strategy

by Anna Sugden

  “Better to hear it and deal with it,” she’d said. “Frustrating as they can be, Marty’s objections always add value.”

  Now, as she returned to her seat, everyone turned to the boss.

  Marty leaned back in his chair, picked up his pen and rolled it between his fingers. “Thank you, Sapphie and Scotty.”

  Scott felt the room collectively hold its breath. His pulse sped up like it did the moment before the puck dropped.

  Marty tapped his pad with the pen and said, “Before I give my views, Callum, what are your thoughts?”

  Sapphie exchanged triumphant grins with Scott. So far, so good.

  After Callum said his piece, Marty nodded approvingly. “Nice work all round. This is a solid plan that should deliver exactly what the franchise needs. I have some points where I’d like clarification and also some thoughts to add.”

  Marty asked a few questions, then made several suggestions for improvements. There were a couple areas he didn’t like and they debated them with him. On one, they changed his mind and he instructed that their idea be rolled out to his other franchises. On the other, he was immovable, and he insisted they fall in line with those other businesses.

  “Let’s get this done.” Marty pushed away from the table. “Callum and Scotty, I’m confident I’m leaving the business in good hands. I’m only a phone call away, so I hope you’ll feel free to use the brain cells I have before they’re gone.”

  Everyone laughed, more as a release of tension than anything else.

  “And now I suggest we celebrate. This has been a tough job, but you’ve all handled it really well. Congratulations are in order for Morgan on her new position as the VP in charge of marketing, sales and sponsorship.” Marty waved his hand and Doreen walked in carrying a tray with bottles of champagne. “Dinner has been arranged at my club so we can continue the party.”

  With the meeting officially over, the volume in the room rose as various conversations started and overlapped. A group gathered around Morgan, congratulating her. Most people seemed to be satisfied with the outcome of the project. All except Darren, who stalked out of the room, his expression thunderous. Scott wasn’t surprised—he and Sapphie had expected the restructure would put Darren’s nose out of joint.

  When the champagne came round, Scott grabbed a couple flutes and gave one to Sapphie. “Before the main toast, I want to make one to you. It was a pleasure working with you.” He lowered his voice. “But I’m glad it’s over and we can move forward with a more...personal project.”

  Her blue eyes twinkled as she clinked her glass to his, reminding him of the private celebration they had planned for later. “Here’s to future collaborations. May they all be as successful as this one.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Callum joined them and raised his glass before taking a sip. “Great job, both of you. I have a good feeling about the upcoming season now that everything’s settled and we have a strong strategy in place.”

  “Not to mention the defending Stanley Cup champions on the ice.” Sapphie laughed.

  “Never hurts,” Callum agreed. He slapped Scott on the back. “And this guy backing me up in the front office is turning out to be an even bigger bonus than I expected.”

  Pleased about the praise, Scott said, “Well, this job is already a hell of a lot better than yapping in the booth.”

  “Don’t think you’ve had an easy escape yet,” Callum warned, smiling. “Wait until I send you out to deal with the media hordes during a Cats bad run and they want Coach Macarty’s head, and mine, on a platter.”

  “I’ll be ready. I’ve already started watching film of you handling the vultures and made notes. There are several quotes I can borrow. Like ‘Every season has its ups and downs’ and ‘No team wins eighty-two games.’ And my personal favorite, ‘The Cup isn’t won in November’ or whatever month we’re in.”

  “I told you he was a quick learner.” Callum turned to Sapphie. “So, what will you be tackling next?”

  The slight hesitation before she answered and the quick glance she shot at Marty triggered a hint of unease in Scott’s gut. Was there another project for Antonelli? She hadn’t mentioned anything. Obviously, it was good news for her company, but most of Marty’s holdings were on the West Coast. How often would she be able to make it to Jersey under those circumstances? How would that impact their relationship?

  “I’ll be catching up with everything that was pushed aside for my extended stay here,” Sapphie said lightly. “No peace for the wicked.”

  “But you will be here for opening night?” Callum asked. “We’ll be raising the championship banner.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” Sapphie’s gaze met Scott’s.

  The promise in her eyes eased the tightness in his gut. She didn’t play games, he reminded himself. He shouldn’t borrow trouble by trying to second-guess her words and actions. Or their future.

  Jeez. He’d never wondered so much about a woman’s behavior. Probably because he’d never had to. He’d missed out on all that crap when he was a teenager. Now he seemed to be paying for that.

  A short while later, the meeting broke up. People went to their offices to clear the decks before heading to Marty’s club. Their owner had arranged transport so no one had to worry about drinking and driving.

  “We knocked it out of the park today.” Scott walked with Sapphie to her office.

  “Great teamwork.” She began gathering up her things. “It doesn’t always work out so well. Even when I’m on the same page as the client. Egos can get in the way over the smallest points.”

  “That’s not something we had to worry about.” He leaned against her doorjamb. “I barely noticed that you had two more slides in the presentation than I did.”

  Sapphie laughed as she unplugged her laptop and slipped it into her case. “Three, if you count the summary chart.”

  “Hmm. You may need to soothe my bruised ego later.”

  “I’ll do my best to make it up to you.” The husky edge to her voice was as effective as if she’d caressed him.

  He shifted to cover the tightening in his pants. “How long will dinner be?”

  “Too long. But the sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll be able to leave.”

  “Good plan. I’ll get my stuff sorted and meet you here.”

  He barely made it to his office door when he heard someone snarl, “I want to talk to you, bitch.”

  What the hell? He swiveled in time to see Darren grab Sapphie’s arm.

  Scott started to move forward to tell the ass to get his freaking hands off her, but Sapphie caught his gaze through the glass and shook her head. He held off, prepared to let her handle things. For now. He edged closer to her door, just in case.

  “That VP’s job should have been mine. Not Morgan’s.”

  “Get your hands off me.” Sapphie wrenched her arm out of Darren’s grasp and stepped away from him. “You’ve done nothing to deserve the promotion. Your numbers are pitiful and your contribution to this project has been zero. Now get out of my office and consider yourself lucky I don’t have you fired.”

  The icy note in her voice should have been a warning, but Darren was too riled to notice.

  “You can’t do that. Don’t you know who I am?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, your uncles don’t own the team anymore.”

  As Darren lunged forward to grab her again, Scott stepped into the office.

  “You’re making a scene.” His voice was low and even. “Walk away. Now.”

  Like a playground bully, Darren didn’t like the interference of someone he perceived as stronger than him. His chin had a belligerent tilt as he slammed out.

  Once he’d gone, Sapphie turned to Scott. “I was perfectly capable of dealing with that ass, but thank you for backing my play.”
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br />   “Anytime.”

  “Hopefully, there won’t be another time. Darren’s just done you and Callum a favor and written his own marching orders.”

  “The sooner he’s gone, the better.”

  “Exactly.” She shooed him out of her office. “Now, let me get packed up so we can get out of here.”

  As he returned to his own office, Scott realized that the incident had brought back the uneasiness he’d felt earlier. Specifically because Sapphie’s reaction had reminded him how fiercely independent she was.

  Why did that bother him? He’d never had a problem with strong women who could take care of themselves. He’d always respected them—from his mom to his billet mom, even his ex-wife.

  Sapphie’s independence, her need to have everything on her own terms, came from a darker place, he knew. He respected that, too. Still, he couldn’t ignore the niggle of concern.

  How long would it be before he became a casualty of that fierce independence?

  For now, with things ticking along between them as they were, all was fine. Their relationship went from day to day, with their plans fluid. It suited them both for different reasons—the requirements of his new job, the demands of her business.

  But he wanted more. More of her time. More of a sense that he mattered to her as much as she mattered to him.

  The problem was that the moment he shared that with her, she’d be off like a shot.

  If he were smarter, he’d probably end things now. Before she got scared that they were getting too close. Before he got in too deep.

  But he also wanted more of what they’d shared. It was special, he knew, even if she didn’t—or couldn’t—recognize it. Special enough that, despite the risk, despite the odds, he had to give them a chance.

  And because deep inside was the kind of hope that had sustained him throughout his life, when his dreams—of playing professional hockey, of making it to the NHL, of winning the Cup—had also seemed against the odds. This time, the hope was that he could be the one to change her mind and that they’d have a future together.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  OPENING NIGHT HAD always been special. More than his birthday or Christmas. Although, Scott reflected, that was possibly because during a normal year, he was either playing or traveling on those other days.

  The season began for real on opening night. Everything up to that point was simply a rehearsal and didn’t count. What had happened the previous season didn’t count either. Whether you’d won the Cup in June or hit the golf course in April, there was a clean slate for every player and every team from the minute the puck dropped on that first face-off.

  It was a time fresh with possibilities, hope and belief. Favorites hoped they’d start strong to deliver the ultimate prize. Underdogs believed they could beat the odds of every sporting pundit. As for the ones in the middle of the pack, it was a long eighty-two games and the only thing you could guarantee was that there would be plenty of surprises.

  From here on in, every game, every point, mattered.

  Standing behind the team bench as the Cats went through their morning skate, Scott felt the buzz in the air and the energy of the players preparing for tonight’s game stir his blood. Man, he wanted to be out there instead of watching. The only reason he was here was to check on the arena operations team as they got ready for the pregame ceremony and the raising of the championship banner.

  But even as his heart yearned to feel the ice beneath his blades and the puck on his stick, Scott’s joints ached in protest. He needed to be ten years younger and have had less than ten years’ worth of injuries to have a chance of keeping up with the kids. The last few seasons he’d played had proved that. It had taken longer to recover from each game and prepare for the next one. It had been harder to get himself into peak condition. Harder still to maintain it. Being a veteran gave him no quarter, especially not from the youngsters. Today’s rookies were fitter, stronger and faster than when he’d broken into the league. Not to mention some of them were the same age as Angela and Wayne.

  A spray of ice cut into his morose thoughts.

  He cursed and wiped the melting flakes from his jacket. “Watch the suit, Kasanski. I need to look sharp when I’m wining and dining the important guests and watching you ice-dance.”

  Ice Man’s lip curled as he climbed over the boards. “Drinking champagne is for wusses.”

  “It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it so you don’t play to empty seats. Don’t worry. You’ll be in my shoes soon enough.”

  “Ah, but I’ve got lucky genes that mean I can keep skating and playing like a kid.”

  “Is that why you spend more time on your ass than your skates?”

  Before Ice Man could reply, the whistle blew and the team headed to the bench for a breather and some water. The players greeted him with the usual mix of good-natured jabs and insults.

  “Suit and tie.” Chance, who’d skated up beside Kasanski, shook his head sadly. “How the mighty have fallen. I bet you’d give your left nut to be skating drills with us.”

  Scott would slice off said nut before admitting that. “Are you kidding? I like waking up in the morning and not hurting.”

  “Man, that sounds good,” current captain Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti groaned. “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t hurt.”

  “Me neither.” Ike Jelinek flipped up his mask and drank deeply from a bottle before squirting water over his face. “Some mornings it takes me ten minutes to ease out of bed.”

  “I think that has more to do with your hot wife,” Monty said.

  Ike’s face softened at his backup’s words. “She does make those aches go away.”

  Ike’s younger brother Kenny made a gagging sound and held up two fingers like a cross warding off evil. “TMI, bro. Way too much information.”

  “You’re just jealous.”

  J.B. laughed. “That’s for sure.”

  “I don’t need a wife.” Kenny shuddered.

  It was good to be jawing with the guys. There was nothing like the give-and-take with them. At least that never went away.

  Scott noticed that Mad Dog didn’t join in, but hung off to one side, giving him weird looks. Not the stink-eye, but odd nonetheless.

  A short blast of the whistle and the trainer holding up two fingers warned that work would start again in a couple minutes. Most of the players made a final comment to their former captain, then skated to center ice, ready to scrimmage.

  Scott laid a hand on Taylor’s arm, holding him back momentarily. “I thought we were good about Sapphie.”

  “We are.”

  “So what’s with the attitude?”

  “Nothing. Just a little surprised that you’re still with her. I thought it would have fizzled out now that she’s finished working with the Cats. She’s normally quick to move on.”

  Even though Scott had wondered the same thing over the past week—especially when they’d barely had a chance to talk for more than a few minutes each night—he was pissed at Mad Dog’s comment. Like somehow he wasn’t good enough to hang on to Sapphie.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Taylor continued. “I think it’s great. She seems happy. And it’s way past time she had more than a fun-and-done with someone.”

  The unspoken but hung in the air. As did the knowledge that the relationship would end sometime.

  Mad Dog clapped him on the shoulder. “Patience. Even though you’ll want to hold on tight, you have to give her enough slack that she feels comfortable. It’s the only way to win her trust.”

  It was Scott’s turn to be surprised. “I’m trying.”

  “You’ve already gotten further than any other man, so stick with it.” Taylor tapped his glove to his forehead in a salute. “She’s coming in later, right?”

 
When Scott nodded, Taylor added, “Bring her to the team dinner. Trust me, that’ll be a big score in her eyes.”

  Before Scott could splutter an excuse, Taylor skated off and practice started again. Sticks clashed and bodies thudded into each other. Shouts echoed around the rink.

  Over the years, as more and more guys had gotten married, women had become part of the postgame dinner. Generally, once kids came along, the wives tended not to show up as much. Girlfriends who were included were usually fairly steady. And, of course, the queen of the puck bunnies and her entourage always made an appearance for the single guys.

  Would inviting Sapphie be too much, too soon?

  Scott mulled that over as he headed to the office. He hadn’t quite made his mind up when his phone rang.

  It was Cam Lockhead returning his call. Scott had been trying to get hold of Cam for several days and was getting worried.

  “Hey, Bullet. How’s it going?”

  “It’s going.” His friend’s flat tone set off alarm bells.

  “What’s up, bro?”

  “I’ve quit the Seattle job. I couldn’t stick it out anymore.”

  There was more to the story, Scott sensed. “I guess that was inevitable. Sounded like you were about done last time we spoke.”

  “Yeah. I feel bad for letting the team down, but they were okay about it.” Bullet sounded like even talking was too much of an effort for him.

  “Well, hopefully their loss is our gain. I spoke with Callum and there’s an Ice Cats ambassador’s role open for you anytime you’re ready.” Scott filled Cam in on what he’d agreed on with his GM.

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate you going to bat for me.” The lack of emotion belied the words. If he couldn’t even get himself up over a new job, one he’d asked for, there was something really wrong.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on, Bullet?”

  There was a pause. Long enough that Scott thought his friend might be prepared to share whatever was bothering him.

  “I’m just a little tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Right. This is me you’re talking to. Give me the truth.”