A Perfect Distraction

by Anna Sugden

  Cheers and groans interrupted their conversation. The vests had the ball again. Good-natured insults flew back and forth.

  She turned to check on her daughter. Her heart hitched in her chest. Emily wasn’t there.

  A moment later, she heard Jake yell, “Whoa, Emily! Wait there until we finish this play.”

  The blur of yellow racing toward the melee of bodies halted.

  Maggie’s nails bit into her palm as memories of another time, another game flashed in her brain. A frisson of fear skittered through her as she recalled a furious glare filled with the promise of retribution. She moved toward the steps, toward her vulnerable daughter. Then stopped dead as Jake turned.

  His expression was concerned, rather than angry. His querying look asked her permission. Relieved, she nodded.

  Jake grinned and returned to the game.

  When the play stopped, he waved Emily over. “Hey, Short Stuff. You want to help me beat these bozos?”

  Emily nodded. “But you’re supposed to call me Princess.”

  “Sorry.” He ruffled her hair. “Take it easy, guys. There’s royalty on the field.”

  Jake explained the rules and showed her where to stand. The teams lined up against each other. Someone yelled “Hup,” then threw the ball. Bodies scrambled.

  Maggie winced as several thudded to the ground in crunching tackles.

  Jake caught the ball, then dodged his opponent and handed it to Emily. She charged toward the goal line, spiking the ball triumphantly as she scored.

  Jake swung Emily up onto his shoulders. The shirtless team cheered, then they all high-fived her grinning daughter.

  “Yay, Emily!” Maggie clapped.

  Tracy leaned against the railing. “Looks like Bad Boy has a soft spot for your daughter, as well.” She scowled. “What’s he doing here?”

  Maggie followed her sister’s gaze. Ike Jelinek was walking along the path from the cute little carriage house behind the trees, carrying a drinks cooler.

  “His mum is friends with Jake’s parents. That’s her place. Is there a problem?”

  “Not really.” Her sister’s tone suggested otherwise.

  “Didn’t you do some work for him?”

  “Yes. Last summer.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. He’s a very old-fashioned guy.”

  Maggie quirked an eyebrow. “In what way?”

  “He believes in traditional roles for women.” Tracy’s lip curled. “Men drive, men pay, men are gods whom we should worship and serve.”

  Uh-oh. “Like Dad.”

  “Totally. Ike doesn’t understand the concept of a modern, independent woman. He expects us to be like Mum—subservient and submissive.” Tracy flicked her hair. “I’m not going through that again. I had my fill with my marriage.”

  Before Maggie could delve further, Jake’s mum and Aunt Karina appeared, bearing bowls laden with food.

  “Can we help?” she offered.

  “Thank you.” Tina Badoletti handed her two bowls of potato salad and pointed to the picnic tables, covered in red-checked tablecloths. “Put them over there. We have more in the kitchen.”

  “Gio, we’re ready,” she called to Jake’s father, who was manning the enormous barbecue on the brick patio beside the deck.

  The older, shorter version of Jake grinned, blew his wife a kiss then tossed steaks, burgers and hot dogs onto the grill. The sizzle of the meat hitting the hot grate made Maggie’s stomach growl.

  By the time she and Tracy had finished bringing out the food, the game was over, the guys had cleaned up and everyone was gathered round the barbecue.

  Jake was helping Emily fill her plate. Her carefree giggle tugged at Maggie’s heart.

  Maggie was glad they’d come today. Though, outwardly, her reason for accepting was to help Tracy’s business, she’d wanted Emily to experience the warm, welcoming sense of family she felt at the Badoletti’s. Something her daughter hadn’t got from either set of grandparents.

  When they joined the crowd, Tracy linked arms with a tall, blond man with gray eyes. “Maggie, this is Juergen Ingemar. He’s moved here from Gothenburg.”

  The Swede gave her a strange look. “Have we met?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I doubt it. I’m not a hockey fan.”

  “You play hockey in England, no?”

  “I think so, but it’s not as popular as other sports.”

  He inclined his head. “Football and rugby, sure.”

  “Also, that strange game, cricket,” a gruff, accented voice added. “Tracy, you’re as lovely as ever.”

  Her sister grinned up at the burly man with the scarred face. “This is Vladimir Ralinkov, aka the Russian Rocket. He joined the Ice Cats last season.”

  Ralinkov gave Maggie the same strange look as the Swede, but said nothing. He lifted her hand to his lips. She couldn’t help being charmed by the twinkle in his eyes.

  “You still know how to zero in on the prettiest women, Vlad.”

  Jake’s cool voice over her shoulder made Maggie tense. Though his comment seemed harmless enough, experience had taught her that a calm delivery was more dangerous than shouting. A simple remark—poison delivered with a smile—the prelude to the backhander that inevitably followed.

  She knew Jake wouldn’t hit her, but she edged away from him nonetheless, looking anxiously for Emily. Thankfully, her daughter was by the grill, chatting with Gio and Tina.

  “We played together for a while on the Hawks.” Jake clapped him on the back. “Best damn center in the game. I’m glad we’re on the same team now.”

  The two men laughed and began reminiscing about previous encounters.

  Maggie watched Jake carefully. Was the easy camaraderie as genuine as it seemed or was he saving his anger for when they were away from the crowd, like Lee had done? She searched his face for telltale signs but saw nothing untoward. No twitching jaw muscle, no narrowing of his eyes.

  Could she trust her own judgment? She’d been wrong about her ex, missed some obvious clues. They said the best way to tell how a man would treat his wife was to see how his father treated his mother. She hadn’t met Lee’s father until it was far too late, but had known straightaway that history was repeating itself.

  Maggie looked across to the grill. Gio planted a smacking kiss on his wife’s pink cheek before presenting her with the best steak, cooked just as she liked it. Jake was from good stock. Clearly his reputation wasn’t the whole story.

  Her pulse skipped at the possibility, even as a cautious inner voice warned there was no smoke without fire.

  Maggie had seen enough evidence to know Jake’s nickname had been earned. Her eyes traced the white scar on the bridge of his nose and the one bisecting his eyebrow. Could there be something special behind the image? Something different?

  Someone different?

  She was tempted to believe there was. Tempted to find out for sure. Was it time to give Jake the benefit of the doubt?

  Maggie thought back over everything that had happened since they’d met. With very few exceptions, he hadn’t behaved at all like she’d expected. The way he’d treated people—his mother, Aunt Karina, Emily. Maggie herself.

  Jake had surprised her at every turn.

  But did she dare take the risk on him?

  She looked up at Jake. Their gazes caught and held.

  Turquoise fire flared in the depths of his eyes.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. Heat pooled deep within.

  Did she dare not to?

  * * *

  “HANDS OFF MY cannoli!”

  Jake grinned as Maggie’s hand hovered protectively over her dessert.

  “But there are none left and you have two.” He enjoyed teasing her. “You coul
d share.”

  She smiled at his hangdog look, then playfully smacked his sneaking fingers. “You’ve already eaten three. You’ll spoil your boyish figure.”

  His chest caught at the mischief in her dark brown eyes. He shifted to ease the ache in his already tight groin, only to stifle a groan as she nibbled a pastry shell, then slowly, deliberately, sucked cream from its center.

  Two could play at that game.

  Jake wiped powdered sugar from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. As he licked his thumb clean, her lips parted on a soft gasp.

  He leaned closer.

  She watched intently as his mouth neared hers. His lips hovered whisper close, then headed over her cheek to her ear.

  “Delicious,” he murmured, before snatching the remaining cannoli from her plate.

  Maggie blinked, then laughed. “Sneaky. I’ll have to keep my eye on you.”

  His heart kicked. Yes, please.

  He hadn’t meant to spend the whole afternoon with her. This morning, he’d been full of good intentions—he’d introduce her around, then leave her alone. Maybe she’d find a nice, suitable guy there. He’d ignored the wrench in his guts at the thought of her dating someone else; whatever was best for Maggie and Emily was what was important.

  Then he’d spotted her in that pink summer dress, looking as delicious as strawberry ice cream. Those daisy-shaped buttons trailing enticingly down her front had blown his noble plan out of the water.

  It was only one afternoon. What harm could there be in spending it with her and Emily?

  He’d been surprised by how much he’d enjoyed being part of their family unit. It had given him hope for the future. For the new life he would be living. For the changed man he would become.

  Now he and Maggie shared a blanket under the trees, watching the party wind down in the graying light. The balmy evening air still held a spicy tang from the barbecue. His mom and Aunt Karina sat on the porch swing, their heads bent over their latest quilt, while Tru, Vlad and Juergen chatted with Tracy at a nearby picnic table. On the other side of the lawn, his dad had set up a street-hockey goal and was coaching Emily as she tried to score on Ike.

  A cool breeze rustled the leaves, reminding him summer was ending soon.

  Training camp would be starting, followed by the preseason. Then, the craziness of an eighty-two-game run to April. If all went well, he wouldn’t catch his breath until June.

  The sale of his condo in Chicago had closed a few days ago. Maggie had arranged for his things to be packed, so they were ready to ship when he had the new house. The purchase of the Victorian was progressing smoothly, and he was excited about moving in.

  The only downside was that once it was done, he’d lose his excuse to see Maggie regularly. That bothered him a lot more than he’d expected.

  Emily’s cheer broke into his thoughts.

  Ike gave Maggie’s daughter an exaggerated glare as he dug the red ball out of his net.

  “She shoots, she scores!” His dad whooped.

  Maggie clapped. “Great goal.”

  “She’s got a good eye,” he said as Emily tried a fancy move, narrowly missing.

  “Em didn’t get that from me. I’m hopeless at sports.”

  He seized the chance to find out more about her past. “What about her father?”

  Maggie sighed. “Lee plays football—soccer—in the English Premier League.”

  Her ex was a professional athlete? Jake swore silently. No wonder she was so wary about him. What were the odds the ex had a reputation like Jake’s? If the ex was responsible for the baggage that Maggie and Emily carried with them, that put a nasty spin on the situation, too.

  “I win.” Emily cheered and did a victory dance.

  “I bet she’d be hell on skates.” Jake smiled at Maggie. “She’s got great natural balance.”

  “You’re right. We went to the rink a few times back home and she picked it up easily.”

  The pride in her voice gave him an idea. “You should sign her up for a Mini Mites hockey team.”

  “But she’s a girl.” She frowned.

  “Girls play hockey, too. At her age, there’s no contact.”

  “Emily’s too young.”

  Jake ignored her cool tone. Once she understood what fun her daughter would have, she’d be fine. “My dad had me skating at five. The same youth hockey program is still going. The people involved are good. I could get you the details.”

  “I really don’t think it’s appropriate for Emily.”

  As sexy as he found her clipped accent, he knew rejection when he heard it. She wasn’t even prepared to listen to him. Frustration churned inside. He’d never recommend anything that would be dangerous for a kid.

  Determined not to let her dismiss the idea, he pressed on. “I get why you’re nervous, but you can’t wrap her in cotton wool forever.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d made a tactical error.

  Maggie stiffened, her expression as cold and brittle as game-worn ice. “I’m her mother. I know what’s best for her.”

  “But...”

  “I said no.” Her words echoed around the yard.

  As the others turned to look at them, she said quietly, “Drop it, please.”

  “Is everything all right?” Tracy joined them.

  “Fine.” He couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. “A difference of opinion.”

  Maggie leaped to her feet. “You must be tiring, sis. I’ll get Emily and we can go.”

  Before he could restore the earlier warmth between them, they were leaving. Emily hugged him, but Maggie kept her distance.

  Jake stood on the front porch and watched until the car disappeared.

  Way to go. How come with Maggie he always seemed to have his head up his ass?

  He ran his hand over the tense cords at the back of his neck. He should stick to hockey. The puck didn’t care what kind of man he was. On the ice, the rules were simple.

  He walked into the house. Laughter came from the kitchen as the party moved inside. In no mood to join them, he headed upstairs to his room and flopped onto the bed.

  Though he hadn’t grown up here, his parents had wanted him to feel at home, so they’d filled the shelves with his awards and put up the life-size picture of the Stanley Cup he’d always had pinned to the wall.

  As he did every time he stared at the iconic trophy, he visualized the moment when he’d finally get to lift it over his head. He could almost hear the roar of the crowd, taste the salty tang of sweat, feel the itchy play-off beard and the ache of a body worked beyond its limit.

  This year, there would be no soul-destroying loss. He’d do whatever it took to make damn sure he gave Adam that shared moment of glory. It wouldn’t make up for Jake’s mistakes the night of the accident. Nor would it make up for all the times he’d ducked Adam, putting his frustration at his friend’s erratic play and temperamental behavior ahead of helping a troubled man.

  No, raising the Cup in Adam’s honor wouldn’t repay a fraction of the debt Jake owed, but it was all he had. And he wouldn’t let anything or anyone interfere with that.

  * * *

  “ARROGANT JERK.”

  Maggie drained her wine. She felt like throwing her glass at Jake’s head. “Patronizing, high-handed git.”

  She’d fumed about his comments since leaving the barbecue. Now, as she and Tracy relaxed in the living room, her anger bubbled over. “How dare he insinuate that I don’t know how to bring up my daughter? What is it about sports stars? Just because they’re good at playing with a ball doesn’t make them experts at everything.”

  “They play with a puck in hockey,” Tracy said calmly.

  “Puck, ball, whate
ver. The point is the same.”

  Her sister raised an eyebrow. “What did Jake say to upset you?”

  “I’m a terrible mother because I don’t want Emily to play hockey.”

  “Really? Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand?”

  “Okay, he didn’t say it quite like that, but it’s what he meant. It didn’t cross his narrow mind that I might have a good reason for not letting her play such a violent sport.”

  No sooner had she considered letting down her guard than he’d proved her fears were justified. “He refused to listen to me, then criticized my parenting skills. Just like Lee.”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Tracy asked softly. “You seemed to be getting on well.”

  Maggie started to disagree, then stopped. She and Jake had got on well. It had been a wonderful, relaxed afternoon. Seeing Jake with family and friends had proved he was more than just a charming facade.

  She liked him. Liked being with him, liked spending time with him.

  His criticism had stung because it had been unexpected.

  Was she being unfair?

  “Possibly,” she admitted. “But he kept pushing even after I’d told him no.”

  “He probably got carried away. The man has lived and breathed hockey since he was a kid. You can’t blame him for wanting to share his passion.”

  Unknowingly, her sister hit on the source of Maggie’s frustration. She’d been fighting her attraction to him all day. Even now, her pulse skipped as she recalled the tingling brush of his thumb against her lips. The caress of his breath against the sensitive skin of her neck when he’d murmured in her ear.

  She frowned. “Why are you taking Jake’s side?”

  “I’m not. He handled the situation badly.” Tracy sipped her wine. “That doesn’t mean you should reject his idea out of hand. Hockey’s not that bad.”

  “It’s not ideal for a seven-year-old girl, either. I don’t want her teeth knocked out.”

  “They don’t play hard at her age and they have decent protection. It’s no more dangerous than playing football and she loves that.”

  “I suppose I could check it out,” Maggie said grudgingly. “Em seems really keen. But if I don’t think it’s appropriate, I won’t let her play.”