A Perfect Catch

by Anna Sugden

  That might be selfish, but his job was killer enough on relationships. To have both of them here, there and everywhere wouldn’t work. Not for the two of them and not for their kids. His family wouldn’t grow up with the same instability he’d had. Someone had to be the anchor. Since it couldn’t be him, it would have to be his wife.

  That didn’t mean his heart didn’t want Tracy. Even as he’d outlined his idea to her the day before yesterday, there’d been that tiny lingering hope that she’d change her mind and give them a chance. But she hadn’t.

  He’d felt a twinge of guilt, especially when he’d seen how much his proposition had upset her. Hope had grown momentarily, too. But both the hope and the guilt had vanished when she’d laid down her terms for any potential agreement.

  Though Tracy had yet to confirm her acceptance, he knew she wouldn’t refuse. He expected her answer today, after the game. Then his path would be set and there’d be no going back.

  Ike sat on the cold metal bleachers and watched the young players warming up on the ice. Emily waved at him before joining her teammates in a circle around their coach. After a quick team talk, they were dispatched to begin drills.

  How sad was it that he was jealous of the gangly ten-year-old with the too-small pads roughing up his crease? The kid was obviously going through a growth spurt and his parents had decided to wait it out before buying him new gear. He remembered that all too well—except in his case, his mom hadn’t been able to afford new equipment. Uncle Gio had done his best to find good-quality secondhand gear, but Ike had often made do with equipment that didn’t fit. Ike hadn’t cared, as long as he could play.

  Now, seeing the boy tugging at his pads reinforced how much Ike wanted to play. He’d give anything, even his old too-short pads, to be able to skate into that crease.

  His mind was caught between past and present when Maggie sat next to him. She handed him the tiny well-wrapped bundle that was Joe before turning her attention to the ice. She let Ike play with Joe for a few minutes before starting her inquisition.

  “I didn’t take you for a man who gave up easily.”

  He turned to her, confused. “What have I given up on?”

  “Not what—who. My sister.”

  “There’s no point fighting a battle you can’t win.”

  “Really? I thought the motto was ‘fight until the whistle blows.’”

  “It’s been blowing long and hard for a while now.”

  “Uh-huh. Seems to me that’s just an excuse.”

  How had he turned into the bad guy? “Your sister’s the one with the whistle in her mouth. I’ve tried to get her to have a relationship with me, but she’s made it clear she’s not interested.”

  “So you’ve given up.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Give me a break, Maggie. If there was the slightest chance, I’d hang in there. No amount of fight or heart or will is going to make it happen for us.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  Ike frowned. “Tracy’s changed her mind?”

  “It’s not that simple. She... We both carry a lot of baggage. From our parents, from our ex-husbands.”

  “I knew her ex was a jerk, but he didn’t...”

  Maggie interrupted, “No, he wasn’t violent like Lee. But his behavior was just as damaging. The point is Tracy’s never had a healthy relationship. She’s certainly never had an equal partnership.” She gave him a wry look. “Including with you.”

  “Me? I never expected her to—” how had Tracy put it? “—be subsumed into me.”

  “Maybe not, but you also didn’t give her room to be herself.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “The way you act about her business.”

  “I’ve been incredibly supportive of her business. Look at all the stuff she’s been doing for me. And what I’ve offered her in return for her help.”

  “How about the way you behaved when she had to leave on Thanksgiving? I bet you’re all sniffy because she’s not here yet.”

  “I don’t get ‘sniffy.’” He hoped his lofty tone hid guilt that Maggie had nailed it.

  “Do you know why she left on Thursday? Or why she’s late today?”

  “I’m sure the reason was important both times. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that she always lets Making Your Move interfere with family.”

  “And hockey doesn’t interfere?”

  Ike shifted uncomfortably. “That’s different.”

  “Is it? I don’t see Jake here for Emily’s big game.”

  “We don’t get a choice about which games we play or when.”

  “Just like Tracy doesn’t get a choice about when her clients need her.” Maggie punched him in the arm. She then told him about the Chabals’ problems on Thanksgiving. “And right now, she’s helping a basketball player whose household shipment got delivered to Dallas, West Virginia, instead of Dallas, Texas. The player isn’t even a current client. His new team used one of our competitors, who’ve left him in this mess because they can’t do anything on a weekend. He begged Tracy to help him.”

  “That’s nice of her, but it doesn’t change anything with regards to us.”

  “I can’t decide who I’m most cross with—you for holding her to ransom, or her for bloody paying up.”

  Ike sighed. “I care a lot for Tracy. If there was the slightest chance we’d have a future together, I’d drop this dating thing in a heartbeat. But there isn’t, so it’s time to move on.”

  “You can’t hold on just a little longer? I know your request has shaken her. She might yet come around.”

  He hated the way Maggie could get his hopes up all over again. “I can’t spend the rest of my life waiting for something that probably won’t happen.”

  “What’ll you do if she can’t find you ‘the one’?”

  “I’ll keep looking. I won’t settle for almost good enough.”

  “What if your perfect woman is right under your nose?”

  “If we can’t have the future I want, then I guess I’ll end up alone.”

  Maggie huffed, then dusted her hands against her thighs. “Well, you’re both old enough to do as you please.”

  Ike handed her son back. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Me, too.” She fixed him with a stern look. “One more thing. If you hurt her, I’ll hurt you.” Without giving him a chance to reply, she stalked off.

  How could Maggie think he’d deliberately hurt Tracy? Hadn’t she listened? Tracy was the one to blame, not him.

  He turned his gaze back to the ice but his mind was still on their conversation. No matter what Maggie said, Ike had to believe he was doing the right thing. He’d put an end to a relationship with Tracy. Now he had to reinforce that.

  It wouldn’t be fair to any other woman if he didn’t. He couldn’t date someone else, knowing his heart wasn’t in it. Like he did before a game, he mentally put his emotions about Tracy in a box and slammed the lid shut.

  Then, as if Fate was laughing her ass off at him, Tracy appeared next to him. She didn’t waste time on small talk.

  “Making Your Move will take your job. I suggest we meet on Tuesday afternoon, at my home office, to finalize terms. I’ll take you through how I propose to tackle your project and also take your dating requirements then. Shall we say two o’clock?”

  If she were upset about his “project,” it sure as hell didn’t show. If anything, she seemed eager to rise to the challenge. Her words were the nails that sealed that mental box.

  “Fine.” He made his voice as cool as hers. “I look forward to seeing your proposal then.”

  He didn’t watch her as she walked away. Instead he focused on the kids practicing their shots against the gangly goaltender. For once in his life, Ike didn’t want to be
in goal. He wanted to be the one banging pucks into the net.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  POWER-DRESSING FOR a meeting that was taking place in your own home was not overkill.

  Tracy needed every advantage she could get. Besides, it was more like donning armor for battle—just with more style. She attached the opal brooch—a present to herself to celebrate her first year in business—to the jacket of her red suit to remind her of everything she’d achieved. She then considered the shoes in her closet. She needed heels—for height, to make her legs look great and to make her feel like a million bucks.

  Straps or bows? Black or red? Louboutins or Zanottis?

  Her gaze landed on a box in the middle of the pile. Black patent, triple straps with buttons, red soles. Perfect.

  One last check in the mirror. She touched the opal earrings—the first “frivolous” thing she’d bought with her own money after her divorce was final—to boost her strength. Then she freshened her lipstick. She snapped the lid back on the tube, like a knight pulling down his visor, as a sign she was ready for battle.

  She headed down one level to her empty office. Carla had popped out to post checks and invoices, so there was no one to distract her. Tracy sat at her desk and tried to let the quiet permeate her tense body.

  The clock downstairs chimed two, making her jump and undoing all the good.

  “Keep your eye on the bloody prize,” she muttered to herself.

  Since she wouldn’t be able to relax until Ike arrived, she might as well double-check she had everything she needed. She opened his file and flipped through the documents within.

  A few minutes later, Carla knocked on the door frame. “You look dressed to kill.”

  “Thank you.” Tracy managed a half smile. “But if I killed my clients, I wouldn’t be in business very long.”

  “That’s true.” The intern laughed. “In that case, you’ll knock your next appointment on his very nice butt.”

  Tracy’s smile faded. “Ike’s just a client.”

  “Of course he is,” Carla said wryly. “He’s also a man, and there isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t be bowled over by you in that outfit. Especially those shoes.”

  Tracy tilted an ankle. “Aren’t they fabulous?”

  “One of these days, I’m going to sneak into your closet and have a shoe party.”

  “Feel free to play with them anytime.”

  Carla sighed happily. “You’d never get me out of there.” Then she shook her head, as if to rid herself of her daydream. “I wanted to let you know that Ike’s arrived. He’s waiting in the living room.”

  Tracy’s body tensed. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

  “We came up the front steps at the same time, so I let him in.”

  Tracy tried not to let on how much the lack of warning had thrown her. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve given him a drink—water—and put out a plate of those shortbread cookies we love from the local bakery.”

  “Perfect.” Tracy rose and grabbed Ike’s file, a pen and her iPad. “You really are becoming indispensable.”

  “Anytime you feel like giving me a raise, feel free.”

  “If this project pays off like I’m expecting, you’ll get that raise.” Tracy hadn’t told Carla exactly what the new project entailed, just that she was doing some extra work for Ike.

  “Fantastic. Then maybe I can afford a cool pair of shoes of my own.” The younger woman sat at her desk. “Note to self—check if I can afford a knock-off of those beauties.”

  As Tracy walked downstairs, she mentally revisited the checklist she’d made after her chat with Layla. Her friend had been very helpful. After Tracy’s initial call, they’d met to discuss the situation in more depth. She’d offered to pay Layla a consulting fee, but her friend had asked for payment in kind—relocation to a new office.

  Tracy hadn’t told Layla who her client was, but had given enough information for her to work with. They’d then spent several hours devising a questionnaire that Tracy could use with Ike. In addition, Layla had searched her database and provided a list of possible candidates. They’d agreed to meet again, after Tracy had seen Ike, to go over his answers and fine-tune the list.

  Tracy had been surprised by the number of women Layla had on her database.

  “I never believed I’d get so many clients,” her friend had said. “Especially with the number of exclusive agencies in the area. I wanted to provide genuine help for genuine people, so I tried to make my service more approachable and less like a cattle market for the rich and famous.”

  It had clearly worked; Layla’s success rate was impressive.

  Her friend was confident there’d be several women in her database who’d meet Ike’s requirements. Which was great. Really.

  Keep your eye on the prize.

  Tracy squared her shoulders and walked into the living room.

  Ike stood as she entered. “Hey. How’s it going?”

  He looked good. Too good. He was wearing a dark green collarless shirt that emphasized both his broad chest and his eyes. One sleeve had been pinned above his cast. His black jeans were faded and fit his strong legs to perfection. His wind-tousled dark hair was longer than normal, making her fingers itch to run through the silky strands.

  Tracy stamped down on the attraction, as if with her spiked heels, and went over to where he stood. She didn’t offer her hand, even though it would have put the meeting on an unequivocally professional footing, because she couldn’t rely on maintaining her control if they touched.

  “Fine, thanks. I hope you don’t mind meeting in here. Given what we’ll be discussing, I want you to be relaxed.” She indicated for Ike to sit.

  Once he had, she took the armchair across from him. “Let’s get the administrative stuff out of the way.”

  “I’ve read your proposal and think it’s fine.” He handed her a large manila envelope, then sat back. “My lawyer and my agent went through everything and saw no problems, so I’ve signed the papers. You’ll find a check in there for the agreed amount.”

  He was certainly keen; she’d only emailed them yesterday. Still, the sooner they got started, the sooner it would be over. Tracy ignored the pang she felt at the thought that he couldn’t wait to move on, too.

  “Let’s get cracking.” She passed him the questionnaire she and Layla had devised. “This is the easiest way to get to the heart of your requirements.”

  She winced inwardly at the word heart.

  Keep your eye on the prize.

  “It’s based on what Layla uses, but we’ve tailored it to your specifications,” she said crisply, as if discussing the features of a potential house. “I’ve filled in the basic information already, to save time.”

  Ike scanned the first page. “Yeah. Fine. Looks straightforward.”

  “I’ll leave you to fill in physical details at your leisure. For today, I think it’s important that we cover the essential elements of personality, values and interests.”

  “Whatever works. You’re the expert.” His cool tone matched hers.

  Her withering look seemed to bounce off him like a puck off his pads. “Apparently this works best if you give answers that are phrased positively—what you want, rather than what you don’t want.”

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees.

  “A woman who wants me and the things I want. Who has the same ideals and traditional values. Who wants a future that includes marriage and kids.”

  Tracy had known this session would be uncomfortable, but hearing him spell it out hit her hard. It wasn’t what he’d said that hurt. It’s what he hadn’t said. He wanted someone who wasn’t her. Her fingers shook as she concentrated on writing his answer neatly on the page.

  She sipped her water. “Okay,
good. Does it matter if the woman already has children?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about pets?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you have a problem with a divorcee?”

  “At our age, everyone has a history. As long as she’s not in a relationship right now, the past is the past.”

  “Do you mind if she works?”

  “Most women do. My mom did. She shouldn’t have had to work as hard as she did, but she had no choice. She had to support herself and us.” He crossed his arms. “The important thing is that the right woman won’t see her work as her life. Or to put it positively, she must be capable of achieving balance in her life.”

  That zinger caught Tracy right in the breastbone, stealing her breath. They’d barely started and she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

  She steeled herself to continue. “Any professions you wouldn’t want her to work in?”

  “Other than the oldest?” The humor in his voice didn’t reach his eyes. “I try not to prejudge people based on their jobs because I don’t want them to be prejudiced about me because of mine.”

  No—he only judged after the fact. “What if the woman works shifts or travels a lot?”

  “Again, as long as she’s willing to compromise, it should be okay. If she can’t or won’t...” He shrugged.

  Breathe in, breathe out. Another sip of water. “I assume you’d like someone who’s interested in sports.”

  He shrugged. “I guess as long as she doesn’t hate sports, and especially doesn’t hate hockey, that should be enough.”

  Finally something that didn’t make her feel like the worst woman in the world.

  Thankfully, the next batch of questions was about educational level, religion, politics, hobbies and interests, so she got through those relatively unscathed. She even managed to smile at his response to the question about dietary habits. He was right; he and a vegan had no chance together.