A Perfect Distraction

by Anna Sugden

  Tru and Ike made their cowardly escape.

  He should apologize. He would apologize. As soon as he got over the change in her. He felt...let down.

  That was crazy. He was upset because she looked as hot as she kissed?

  No. Because she was dressed like all the other women he’d dated. What had happened to the old Maggie?

  He rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter what she wore. The person inside was still the same, whether dressed in flowery cotton or in fire-engine red and lace.

  Besides, those shoes were sexy. They showed off her great legs and...

  “If you’re ready?” Maggie’s stiff words interrupted a fantasy he had no business having.

  Jake cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

  “You’re entitled to your opinion, just as I’m entitled to ignore it.”

  He winced inwardly. Anything he said right now wouldn’t help. He’d give her time to cool off, then try to make things right. First he had to get her to ride with him.

  “It’s pointless taking two cars. Why don’t I drive us to the gyms, then bring you back here when we’re done?”

  He could see she wanted to refuse but didn’t have an excuse.

  “Fine.” She marched to the passenger door while he dumped his gear in the back.

  She’d buckled up and was staring pointedly out the window when he got in. As he turned the key in the ignition, he sighed mentally. This afternoon was going to feel as long as a penalty kill in the waning minutes of a scoreless game.

  * * *

  “WOULD IT HELP if I said I was a jackass?”

  Jake’s humble-pie tone might work on other women, but Maggie was immune.

  Still, as they drove into the parking lot of the final gym on their list a couple of hours later, she was finding it hard to remain cross with him. Not because his puppy-dog eyes were working—such attempts to charm her had long since lost their effect—but because she’d begun to realize there might be another reason for his strange behavior.

  One that put a whole different complexion on things.

  When she’d left home for their meeting, she’d been thrilled with her new look—it had felt right. Felt like the real Maggie. Tracy and Emily had given her a double thumbs-up.

  With one patronizing remark, Jake had made her feel stupid. A failure. Those few words, that horrified tone, had hit right at the heart of her still-fragile self-confidence.

  For the first hour, the hurt had blinded her to anything about him. Slowly though, she’d noticed the burning heat in his ice-blue eyes every time he looked at her. He might sound disapproving, but she sensed he found her makeover very appealing indeed.

  Maggie sneaked a peek beneath her lashes at him. The rigid set of his jaw, the jerky drumming of his fingers on the steering wheel told her he felt bad.

  “That’s unkind to jackasses,” she said coolly.

  Jake acknowledged her jab with a sharp tilt of his head. He parked near the entrance of the single-story building, then turned off the engine. “Since we agree that I’m lower than pond scum, will you accept my apology?”

  “Well...” She let her voice trail off. As she leaned over to collect her bag, she deliberately gave him a glimpse of the lacy camisole beneath her jacket.

  Aqua flames flared in his gaze, sending a delicious quiver through her and confirming what she suspected.

  She straightened. “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” His shoulders relaxed. “Friends again?”

  Friends? Startled by a tug of disappointment, she stammered, “Uh, yes. Sure.”

  “Great.” He grinned. “What prompted this latest change? Not that I’m criticizing, but those floaty dresses were pretty. Made you stand out from other women.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” She hadn’t expected a discussion of her fashion sense. “Like I said, a suit makes me feel more professional.”

  “So you haven’t gotten rid of the dresses?”

  She shook her head, surprised he was that bothered about some cotton dresses.

  “Good. Anyway, red suits you better than pigeon gray or boring beige, or biscuit, or whatever they call it.”

  Maggie’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

  He held up his hands. “Just a friendly observation.”

  “I’ve been finding my feet, fashionwise.” She frowned. “Now I think I’ve got it right. I feel comfortable.” Her direct look challenged him to disagree.

  He didn’t. “Why did you have to ‘find your feet’?”

  Though she was nervous about sharing the details of her past, it was only fair. Besides, if they were to be more than “friends,” he should know what emotional baggage she carried.

  “My ex-husband had definite ideas about what his wife should wear,” she began carefully. “At first, I appreciated the guidance. What did I know about dressing to impress? Even if I didn’t like what he chose, I loved wearing designer labels and having the latest catwalk fashion. Gradually, I began to have ideas of my own, to develop my own style. He—” she swallowed “—disapproved of my choices.”

  “Is this a result of his ‘disapproval’?” He traced a finger along the scar on her cheek. Her skin tingled, as if his touch was healing the still-red mark.

  She nodded.

  Jake’s jaw turned to granite. “Go on.”

  “It was easier to give in to his demands than fight them. Especially when Emily came along.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Once our divorce was final, I gave every stitch of clothing to the local charity shops. I started from scratch and tried different things until—” she indicated her outfit “—I settled on this.”

  “Then I shoved my size twelves in my mouth.” Disgust colored his tone.

  “You didn’t help,” she agreed. “No matter. Not everyone will approve of what I wear, so I’m learning to focus on my own approval instead.”

  “Good for you.”

  Maggie smiled. “Anyway, enough of that. Time to check this place out.”

  “Sure.” Jake undid his seat belt. “If this one isn’t suitable, I may consider putting a home gym in the basement.”

  Maggie batted away a twinge of nervousness. She’d done her best. He was dissatisfied with the places, not with her.

  Jake had been as picky about choosing a new gym as he’d been with the house. He’d found fault with each of the previous places within minutes of entering. Still, she’d saved the best for last. She hoped it lived up to the brochure.

  “I can look into that for you, but let’s wait until we’ve seen this gym. It might be exactly what you’re looking for,” she said cheerily. “From the brochure, it looks perfect.”

  “Those other places looked great on paper, too. That first gym was disgusting.” He got out of the car.

  Maggie joined him in front of the building. “The changing rooms were filthy.”

  “The next couple were too New Age. How can meditating improve my stamina? Aromatherapy sure as hell won’t help my puck handling.”

  “I’ve heard of several athletes using natural approaches to boost performance.”

  His lip curled. “No way sniffing lavender could improve my shot.”

  “I think it was rosemary.” She grinned. “Either is better than steroids.”

  “I guess. I wouldn’t take those, either.”

  No. Maggie couldn’t imagine Jake taking any shortcuts to success. “What was wrong with that last place? It was clean, had state-of-the-art equipment and highly qualified trainers.”

  The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I know the owner. He used to play hockey.”

  She’d sensed Jake didn’t like him. “Doesn’t that put the gym at the top of your list?”

  “Not a chance.” His hard tone brooked no argument.

  �
�Why not? I thought you were all mates off the ice.”

  “Mostly. Jerks like him, I want nothing to do with.”

  His vehemence baffled her. “He seemed pleasant enough.”

  “The guy was dirty. Bush league. He injured some good people.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that hockey? You hit. You fight. Someone gets hurt.”

  Jake jammed his hands on his hips. “There’s a right and wrong way to do things. That joker’s was the wrong way.”

  “There’s a right way to hit a player?”

  “Knocking the opposition out of the way is like tackling. Only we can’t tackle because our blades are razor sharp.”

  It made a strange kind of sense.

  “That doesn’t explain players beating the living daylights out of each other while the crowd bays for blood.” Maggie grimaced as she recalled some of the clips she’d seen. “I suppose there’s a good reason for fights, too.”

  “Most of the time they’re to inject energy or change momentum. If the team needs a spark, the enforcer will challenge the other team’s goon to a fight.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “You make a dirty play, you pay the piper. It’s part of The Code.”

  “The Code? Is that like honor among thieves?

  “It’s an unwritten set of rules. Helps us keep the game clean and fair.”

  “You sound like Wyatt Earp.” She grinned. “Do the good guys wear white hats?”

  “Very funny.” Jake’s voice was tight.

  “I’m sorry.” Her grin faded. She’d offended him.

  “Forget it. Doesn’t matter. Shall we go inside?”

  Her pulse jolted nervously at his dismissive tone. “Really, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  As she studied him more closely, she realized he was sulking. Instantly, her worry eased.

  “How long are you going to pout?” She exaggerated a glance at her watch.

  “Hockey players don’t pout.” The tightness vanished.

  “Especially not enforcers.”

  “I’m not an enforcer.”

  “I’ve seen the videos of your fights.”

  “You looked me up on YouTube?” The cocky grin was back.

  “Client research,” she countered primly.

  “Uh-huh.” His look said he’d let that slide for now. “Those clips are old. I don’t fight anymore, but I still throw clean, hard checks.” Jake touched her arm, sending a fizz through her blood. “Why don’t you come to a game with me? I can explain everything while we watch.”

  He wanted to take her out? She stumbled over her words as she tried not to sound too eager. “Won’t you be playing?”

  “Not much during preseason. The coach wants to check out the kids, not us old-timers.”

  “I’m not supposed to date clients.” It was a token resistance.

  Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “After today, I won’t be a client.”

  “Our contract is with the Ice Cats—technically, you’ll still be a client.”

  “In that case, technically, it won’t be a date.”

  Her pulse skittered. “What will it be?”

  “Consider it...research.” Jake leaned closer. His clean, masculine scent teased her nose. “Who better to teach you about hockey than a player?”

  Her stomach churned with nerves, even as her foolish heart danced with anticipation.

  “I’ll reserve a suite at the arena.” Jake’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You can bring Tracy and Emily, and I’ll get my folks there, too.”

  Why not? Her lips tingled with the memory of their kiss; desire stirred within, reminding her of what she could gain. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

  His grin was jubilant. “Great.”

  “Then shall we check out this gym?”

  As she got out of the car, she hid a smile. Looked like Jake Badoletti was a temptation she couldn’t resist, after all.

  * * *

  JAKE WANTED TO strut like a proud rooster.

  How could he make the game special? His mind buzzed as he and Maggie checked out the admittedly top-notch facilities.

  “Jake?”

  He turned to see a smiling, well-built man come toward him, wiping his face with a towel. A pair of worn boxing gloves hung around his neck and a sheen of sweat covered his dark skin.

  “Prince?” The two men slapped each other on the back. “What are you doing here?”

  “I run the fitness boxing program.”

  “No kidding.” He introduced his friend to Maggie. “This guy showed me how boxing can help maintain the high level of fitness needed for a long season. He also taught me how to fight.” He grinned. “I keep telling him, it’s a lot harder throwing punches on skates.”

  Prince laughed. “A broken nose is a broken nose, Bad Boy. Even if you ice dance first.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Maggie smiled politely.

  “Can I interest you in fitness boxing, too?”

  “Me?” Her expression was half horrified, half terrified.

  “Lots of my clients are women. It’s a great way to get in shape.”

  “But I don’t want to hit people.”

  “You don’t have to.” Prince told Jake to continue looking around while he took Maggie to meet one of his clients—a petite woman pounding the hell out of a heavy bag.

  Jake wandered through the large, airy space filled with equipment. As he pretended to check out the machines, he couldn’t take his eyes off Maggie. The way her red suit clung to her curves. The glimpse of scarlet nail polish visible through her peep toes. The way she bit her full lower lip as she listed intently to what Prince said.

  Damn it. He wanted her attention focused on him. He strode across to interrupt the cozy little gathering.

  “Not today, but thanks for the offer.”

  What offer?

  “Call me and we’ll arrange a time for you to try it out.” Prince gave her his card. “I’ll provide the gloves.”

  “Great.” Maggie pocketed the card.

  Irritation spiked. She’d barely given him the time of day because of his fighting, but Mr. I-Used-to-Beat-People-Up-for-a-Living was her new pal? “We should go.”

  Keeping the goodbyes to a minimum, Jake rushed Maggie out of the gym.

  “I’m glad that worked out,” she said as they walked back to his M-Class. “I’m looking forward to giving his program a try.”

  Jake bit back a growl as he opened her door. “I thought you didn’t like fighting.”

  “I don’t. But fitness boxing doesn’t involve hitting anyone.”

  A snapshot of her in shorts and a tight top, her face moist with the exertion, her skin glowing, flashed through his head. Heat sparked in his groin.

  He forced the image away and tried to concentrate on the drive back to the practice facility. Within minutes, though, he was brooding over the changes again.

  First the clothes, now the boxing. What next? Why did she need to change?

  On the other hand, the new Maggie was very easy on the eyes. His body sure approved of the new look. Did a few outward changes really matter? Instead of worrying about them, he should be figuring out how to win her over at the preseason game.

  Now that was something he knew how to do. Jake glanced across at Maggie, who smiled at him. He grinned. He may be reformed, but he had to admit—even a good man needed a touch of bad boy to win.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “HURRY UP, Mummy. We’ll be late.” Emily hopped impatiently from foot to foot.

  “Won’t be a minute.” Maggie smiled as she pulled on her ski jacket. Emily was as eager to see Jake’s parents again as she was to watch her first hockey game.

  Maggie c
hecked her lipstick in the rearview mirror, then closed the car door. She’d give that blonde a run for her money. It wasn’t a competition, but knowing she could hold her own gave Maggie a warm feeling inside.

  Along with a fizz of anticipation at seeing Jake again.

  Tracy locked the car, then they joined the throng swarming toward the steel-and-glass arena that was home to the Ice Cats. Maggie was thrilled to see so many fans wearing Badoletti jerseys.

  Above the main entrance, a huge screen showed video clips of the players in action. They watched for several minutes.

  “There’s Mr. Ike.” Emily cheered as the goaltender made an acrobatic save.

  Maggie had to admit the game looked fast moving and energetic. Captivated by the action, she was caught unawares when Jake’s face appeared on the screen.

  “Bad Boy has come home and he’s taking no prisoners,” the voice-over intoned as Jake’s picture faded to a video montage.

  Around them, fans whooped as he sent players crashing into the boards. To her dismay, Emily joined in as he floored a player in an orange jersey with a single punch.

  Maggie swallowed to clear the tightness in her throat. Clearly, neither the Ice Cats nor the fans expected Jake’s fighting to be a thing of the past.

  Could she trust that the raw aggression wouldn’t spill over into normal life? He’d given her no reason to doubt him, but this video had her questioning whether she was being naive.

  Jake’s face reappeared, his expression fierce and warriorlike. Every scar showed clearly. His ice-blue eyes were as piercing as lasers. Her pulse skipped as he gave his sexy half smile.

  “Are you ready for Ice Cats hockey?” he growled. “Are you ready for me?”

  The crowd roared in response.

  They might be, but Maggie wasn’t sure she was.

  Tracy laid a hand on her arm. “It’s all hype.”

  She nodded, but uncertainty settled in her stomach like a stone.

  Inside the arena, they spotted Jake’s parents, wearing Badoletti jerseys. After a quick tour of the arena, they led the way to the suite he’d reserved.

  A large crowd was gathered outside. Jake stood in the middle, dashingly handsome in his dark suit, signing autographs. He chatted amiably with everyone and posed for numerous photographs with fans.