A Perfect Distraction

by Anna Sugden

  The realization wasn’t a surprise. More a recognition of the inevitable. An acceptance.

  No. This wasn’t something over which she had no control. It was something she wanted to pursue. Her decision. Her choice.

  Maggie’s fingers curled into the softness of his T-shirt, reveling in the contrast between the soft fabric and the solid muscles beneath. The thought of exploring his smooth, tanned skin caused a sharp tug in the depths of her belly.

  His fingers tightened on the curve of her hips. Hot. Branding her, despite the layer of fabric between his hand and her skin.

  She tilted her head. Lifted her chin.

  He lowered his head until barely a breath separated their mouths.

  Maggie moistened her suddenly parched lips.

  Jake closed the gap. His tongue darted out and followed hers, licking the fullness of her lower lip.

  A fiery arrow of desire shot straight to her core, creating a molten pool.

  She wanted to taste him. Needed to see if he was as darkly delicious as she’d imagined. She swept her tongue across his firm lips.

  Better than ice cream. Better than chocolate.

  No wonder all those women were prepared to risk their manicures to make meals for him. Heck, for kisses like this she’d cook for him, and she didn’t like cooking.

  Jake nibbled her bottom lip. The tip of his tongue teased the corners of her mouth.

  More. She had to have more.

  Maggie dipped her tongue between his lips.

  He captured it, deepening the kiss. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him. The length of his body pressed against hers.

  Her arms wound around his neck. Her aching breasts were crushed against his solid chest. His hardness brushed her mound, then settled in the cradle at the top of her legs.

  Somewhere, a bell rang.

  She frowned. She should do something about that. In a minute. Maybe.

  His fingers caressed their way up her side to the curve of her breast. She yearned for them to go higher. Instead, he played with the buttons on her blouse, slipping his fingertips between the buttonholes and stroking the sensitive skin beneath.

  The bell rang again. “Hello? Delivery for Jake Badoletti.”

  Those words doused the heat as effectively as the proverbial bucket of cold water.

  Maggie pushed against Jake. He let her go, reluctantly.

  Desire burned in the depths of his blue eyes. “Come and find me when you’re done.”

  She nodded, then watched as he hefted up the box he’d been rummaging in and walked back to the den. Oh, my. The rear view was just as hot as the front. She fanned herself before opening the door.

  A deliveryman in a green uniform thrust his handheld computer at her. Behind him in the open van was a large stack of boxes. Adam’s things from Chicago. The last thing Jake wanted to face today.

  She smiled sweetly. “Could you help me take them to the basement?”

  The man grunted and followed her. It took a dozen trips, but they were finally stacked safely out of sight.

  “I really appreciate it.” She signed the man’s screen and gave him a generous tip.

  No sooner had he driven off than the cable guy turned up. With a sigh, she briefed him on the job, then took him upstairs to the master suite.

  As she hurried back along the landing to the stairs, the doorbell rang again. Who could that be now?

  Her foot had just hit the top step when Jake opened the front door to reveal his visitor.

  Tall and slim. Long, straight, glossy blond hair. A skintight cropped T-shirt with the Ice Cats logo stretched across her impressive chest. Skinny-leg black jeans tucked into black suede boots with three-inch heels and gleaming silver buckles.

  Instantly, Maggie felt like a frump. Her lip curled at her own modest cotton blouse, her practical khaki chinos and her demure white flats.

  “Hey, Bad Boy.” The husky voice floated through the air like a caress. “Longest shutout streak by a goaltender?”

  Jake grinned and opened his arms. “If it isn’t the queen of the puck bunnies. Looking good, babe.”

  With a throaty laugh, the leggy beauty planted a smacker on his lips.

  Maggie wanted to crack Jake over the head with one of his hockey sticks. Only minutes ago, he’d been kissing her.

  How could she compete with perfect looks, a perfect body and an intimate knowledge of hockey? She couldn’t. What’s more, she didn’t want to. She’d played that game with Lee and look at the price she had paid—her own identity, Emily’s safety. The cost was far too high. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “Answer the damn question, Bad Boy, or pay the penalty.”

  Maggie didn’t stick around to see what kind of penalty the too-bloody-perfect blonde would extract. She headed back upstairs in search of her daughter.

  So much for thinking Jake was different. He may not be abusive, but he was as untrustworthy as Lee when it came to women.

  Time to leave. This job was finished.

  Emily came without any fuss, excited over the promise of a trip to her favorite pizza parlor. Somehow, they avoided bumping into Jake and the blonde on the way out.

  Jake rang as they were being seated at the restaurant but she didn’t answer. When she saw his name on the caller ID, she turned her phone off.

  Maggie stewed about what had happened all through the pizza dinner and into the long dark hours of the night. By 3:00 a.m., she’d stopped feeling sorry for herself. After all, Jake had kissed her. Had wanted her.

  By 4:00 a.m., she’d worked out how to move forward. She resolved to give the new Maggie a new look. Time to dress like the person she wanted to be.

  Long past time.

  She finally fell asleep planning her first shoe-shopping trip.

  And dreamed of Jake. Delicious, erotic dreams, beyond anything she’d experienced. Dreams that ended just short of fulfillment.

  Maggie woke at seven, aching with need and determined to know the truth, even if it wasn’t favorable. With trembling fingers, she switched her phone back on.

  A dozen voice mails from Jake.

  “Where are you?” His deep voice washed over her like a caress. The sexy undertone throbbed with the memory of their kiss, stoking the flames of her already heated blood. “Why’d you leave without saying goodbye? We had unfinished...business.”

  With each successive message, his tone grew more concerned, until he asked, “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

  By the time he left the final message, he sounded bewildered. “Whenever you get this, call me. Please.”

  She flicked her phone shut. After a few minutes, she replayed his messages. He didn’t sound like a man who’d casually tossed her aside for a better offer. Had she misunderstood the incident with the blonde? Had she, once again, judged Jake by Lee’s low standards?

  There was only one way to find out for sure.

  She opened her phone and dialed.

  Jake took a while to answer. “Maggie?” His voice sounded husky with sleep.

  She got straight to the point. “What’s a puck bunny?”

  * * *

  WHAT THE HELL kind of a question was that?

  Jake shook his head, trying to jar his tired brain awake. “I’m sorry. I’m still half asleep.” He yawned, then sat up. “Are you okay? I was worried.”

  “What’s a puck bunny?” she repeated, ignoring his question.

  “Um...a hockey groupie.”

  “I see.” Her tone was knowing, disappointed.

  Her jerk of an ex had probably screwed around with soccer groupies. Damn it.

  “You saw me with Jenny. Tall, skinny blonde in a Cats T-shirt.”

  “Yes.”

  That
explained her abrupt departure. One minute her kiss had almost blown his socks off, the next she’d gone. No explanation, no excuse, just gone.

  At first, he’d worried something had happened to her sister or Emily. Why else would she have cut out so suddenly?

  But as the evening had worn on and she hadn’t returned his calls, he’d begun to suspect an altogether different reason for her disappearing act. Now that he knew for sure, he had to figure out how to get things between them back on track.

  He decided to cut to the chase. “I’d have introduced Jenny to you if you’d stuck around. She’s pretty cool. Got an amazing memory for hockey stats.”

  “How interesting.”

  It hurt that she didn’t trust him. Did she really think he’d go from kissing her to sleeping with Jenny? He’d never cheated, even at the height of his wildness. For however long he was with a woman, he was monogamous. Some just had shorter shifts than others.

  If all Maggie knew about his past was the stuff she’d read, how would she know that? “Jenny and I are just good friends.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m telling you anyway. There’s nothing between me and Jenny.”

  “I appreciate the gesture, but it’s not necessary. Our relationship is purely professional and now that your move is complete, it’s at an end.”

  Even as her words made his chest tighten, her stiff little speech gave him hope. Maggie was jealous. If she cared enough to be angry, he still had a chance.

  He really wanted that chance.

  Continuing to insist on his innocence wouldn’t cut it. He’d have to try another approach.

  “I hope you don’t give that kind of goodbye kiss to all your clients.”

  Her sharp intake of breath was audible. “That was an aberration.”

  At least she wasn’t denying the attraction between them. “What if I’d like to make it more than an aberration?”

  “Won’t your ‘friend’ mind?”

  “Why would she? I’ve known Jenny since first grade. We faced off over the last ice cream at lunch.” He grinned at the memory. “She won.”

  Maggie said nothing for a few moments.

  “We never slept together,” he added softly. “Kissing her is like kissing a sister.”

  “You really are just friends.” Her words were a statement, not a question.

  Yes! Jake wanted to pump his fist but restrained himself. “Nothing more, I promise.”

  “You don’t mind her doing that... Being a groupie?”

  “I don’t understand why she does it.” He shrugged, then realized Maggie couldn’t see him. “But it’s her choice, her life. It doesn’t affect our friendship.”

  His heart pounded heavily as he waited for her to speak.

  “I apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusion. In the past...”

  “No need to explain.” He cut her short, gently.

  “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I’d better let you go. I’m sure you have a lot to do in your new house.”

  Jake didn’t want the conversation to end without an agreement to see her again, but he sensed her skittishness. If he asked her on a date, would he scare her off? Tru’s words about patience and taking it slow echoed in his head. Okay, not a date. Not yet. But what?

  “That reminds me, I need your help on another project.” His mind whirred as he searched for something, anything, that would fit the bill.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked cautiously.

  “Um...it’s an important project that needs your expertise.” His gaze scanned his room, seeking inspiration. Boxes. Shelves. TV. Nothing helped.

  “Doing what?” Now she sounded suspicious.

  Suitcases. More boxes. Sports bag. Weights. Hockey gear. Wait...sports bag. Weights.

  “I need a new gym,” he blurted out. “And my house doesn’t have one.”

  “What’s wrong with the one you’re using?”

  What was wrong with it? He pictured the pastel walls and ladies in Lycra. “I want a proper gym. A place to work out, not one where they make me feel guilty for sweating.”

  Maggie laughed. “All right. I’ll pull together a list of suitably sweat-friendly gyms and email them to you.”

  No way. She wasn’t handing him off that easily. “If I switch to another gym, I’m sure a bunch of my teammates will, too. You should come with me to check them out so you can look into negotiating a team rate.”

  He held his breath, hoping she’d go along with his ridiculously weak plan.

  “I’ll see what Tracy says and get back to you.”

  The clipped accent was back, but Jake smiled. She hadn’t said no.

  The game was still on.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE PUCK CLANGED off the boards behind the net.

  Jake gave chase, beating the other skater. Sweat poured down his face. His leg muscles burned. A few more seconds and he could rest. He turned to pass the puck but a body pounded him into the glass. A player in white glided away with the biscuit as Jake ate ice.

  Damn.

  The coach blew his whistle. “Reds, you’re up.”

  Jake headed to the bench and grabbed a water bottle. He squirted the cold water across his face, then took a long swig as he climbed over the boards.

  “Looking good, bro.” Tru nudged him with his padded shoulder. “You’ve got your speed back.”

  “I need to get my brain working. Should’ve seen Vlad.” He glared at the Russian.

  “You’ll be fine once you get a few games under your belt.” Tru toweled the sweat from his visor. “Remember, only six months ago you didn’t know if you’d ever skate again.”

  Six months ago, he’d had taped ribs, an arm and a leg in casts and enough stitches to make Frankenstein’s monster look like a wuss. Jake’s healed ribs twinged. With the endless rounds of rehab before he’d been allowed to train and skate, it had been a lengthy, often painful, road back to health, then fitness. Every day he skated and practiced, he was one step closer to where he needed to be.

  “I’ll need to be better than fine for opening night.”

  Two short whistle blasts and everyone gathered around the coach.

  “Not bad. Tru, Bad Boy, good work.” Max pointed at the rookie, Jean-Baptiste Larocque. “Less flash, more scoring. Think about when to shoot and when to pass.”

  JB nodded, but his sulky expression said he didn’t like criticism.

  Jake shook his head. The kid wanted to be the hero on every play. He’d better learn quickly that winning came from teamwork or he’d piss everyone off.

  Larocque was a good-looking kid. Pale coffee skin, brown eyes and a grin that would melt the panties off a puck bunny. The dark circles under his eyes were a bad sign.

  “He looks tired,” Jake muttered. “Someone should tell him to ease off the partying. The pace up here is a killer for new blood. If he burns the candle at both ends, he won’t make it.”

  Tru agreed. “You should talk to him.”

  “He won’t listen to me.”

  “You’ve got the right street cred to make him listen.”

  “I’ll see how he goes for a couple of weeks. Maybe it’s the excitement of the show and he’ll slow down once it gets serious. If there’s no change once we’re into the preseason schedule, I’ll step up.”

  Max ended practice with a reminder that the team’s new drug-testing program was underway. Jake, Tru and Ike gave their samples, then hit the showers.

  “I’m grabbing something to eat.” Tru dried off. “You coming?”

  “I’m meeting Maggie.” Jake tried to sound casual. “She’s helping me find a new gym.”

  “So your grand plan’s working?”

&nbs
p; “I think so.” He pulled on his jeans. “I’ll tell you after today’s visits.”

  Truthfully, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t seen her for over a week. She’d kept her word and emailed information on suitable local gyms. But between practices, his other team commitments and her schedule, they hadn’t been able to meet until this afternoon.

  “You planning to take her on an actual date anytime soon?” His friend shrugged into a polo shirt, then combed his damp hair.

  “If things work out.” Jake zipped up his gym bag and waited impatiently for Ike and Tru to get their stuff. They all walked outside together.

  And stopped short.

  Who was the sexy babe leaning against his M-Class? Jake did a double take.

  Maggie?

  She’d cut her hair and left it loose. Glossy, dark curls tumbled across her shoulders, begging to be touched. Instead of those floaty dresses he liked, she wore a slim-fitting red jacket over a matching skirt that ended above her knees. No blouse. Spiked red heels.

  As she straightened, her jacket shifted, giving a brief glimpse of lace and shadows beneath. His fingers itched to undo the single large button that held the jacket closed. His heart jolted, then began to pound furiously.

  “Is that Maggie?” Tru’s voice sounded strangled.

  Ike wolf whistled under his breath.

  She walked toward them, a confidence in her stride that he’d not seen before.

  “Nice day at the office, boys?”

  The teasing purr sent a lightning bolt of desire straight to his groin.

  Confusion filled him. This wasn’t his Maggie.

  He managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “What are you wearing?”

  Crap. That didn’t come out right.

  Hurt flashed in her dark brown eyes, quickly followed by anger. Her expression hardened. “A Marc Jacobs suit. The shoes are Chanel. Extravagant, but so comfortable.” Her accent could carve ice. “The rest is none of your business.”

  Tru recovered first. “You look great, Maggie.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You looked great before.” Jake glared at Ike, who’d just hit him in the back.

  “The mumsy look isn’t very professional.” She glanced at the slim gold watch on her wrist. “We should go. Lots to do.”