A Perfect Catch

by Anna Sugden

  “Whatever...?” Ike’s grin was wicked, as he trailed a finger down her throat to the edge of the lacy camisole top beneath her red jacket.

  She gasped as need shot through her. “Anything for...business.”

  “In that case, time to ‘make my move.’” And then Ike proceeded to show her just how committed he was to the success of her business.

  EPILOGUE

  Two months later

  TRACY TWISTED HER fingers nervously and checked the dining room for about the thousandth time to make sure everything was just right. This was an important occasion and she didn’t want anything to go wrong. There was a lasagna keeping warm in the oven. The table was set perfectly with candles, flowers and her best china. Champagne was chilling and a large, gift-wrapped box sat on Ike’s place setting.

  He was on his way back from the arena, where he’d been meeting with Coach Macarty and Callum Hardshaw. Dr. Gibson had called earlier to give her a heads-up that he’d cleared Ike for full contact practice and the team would activate Ike shortly from Injured Reserve, so he could prepare for the playoffs. The plan was for him to play some games with the Cats’ AHL affiliate, before joining the team full-time.

  Tonight’s dinner was a celebration of the long road Ike had travelled and the fresh start he was making with the Ice Cats. Hence the new chest-and-arm protector and catching glove she’d bought for him, with a little help from the Cats’ equipment manager.

  It was a special celebration for Ike and Tracy, too. They’d been living together for one month. As nice as his town house was, they’d both preferred Tracy’s Victorian.

  Ike planned to sell his place at some point, but for the moment, he was renting it out to Kenny and JB Larocque. Tracy had also decided it was time her company had proper offices, separate from her home. She and Maggie had been checking out premises and hoped to sign the lease on a nearby building shortly. Which they would need as they were also in the process of hiring more staff. Carla was now a permanent employee, but as Making Your Move continued to grow they’d need more hands on deck.

  As she walked back into the kitchen to check the lasagna, she saw an Ice Cats’ file on the table and smiled. Callum Hardshaw had come back to her once more. This time, the deal had no mention of his stupid condition, so Tracy had accepted. It was nice to be back working with the Cats, but it was good to have the other hockey teams on board, too.

  “Honey, I’m home.”

  Tracy’s heart lifted, as it did every time she heard his teasing greeting. It was their private joke about Ike’s previously old-fashioned views.

  “Good day at the office, dear?” she called out with her usual response.

  “Hell, yes. As of next week, I’ll be back in net for the Cats.”

  She headed out into the hall, smiling. “Congratulations.”

  Ike grabbed her in his arms, kissed her and twirled her around. “Even that can’t beat the sight of my beautiful woman greeting me in her apron.” He lowered his voice to sexy growl. “Although, it would’ve been even better without that dress underneath.”

  Tracy batted her eyes at him with exaggerated seductiveness. “If you play your cards right, that can be arranged for dessert.”

  He turned to the hall table, picked up an enormous bouquet of brightly colored spring flowers and gave them to her. “Happy anniversary.” He frowned. “Or should that be monthiversary?”

  “Either is perfect.” She smiled. “These look and smell gorgeous.”

  “Like you.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “How are those ‘cards’ looking?”

  “Better and—” She broke off, when she saw a small business card tucked into the bouquet. “What’s this?”

  “The Sharks are in town and I know their coach from Juniors. He’s from Jersey originally and wants to buy a summer place at the shore. I told him to give you a call and you’d sort it for him. Is that okay?”

  “Of course it is.” She reached over and pulled his lips down to hers. “Thank you. I have something for you, too.” She beckoned him with a finger.

  Ike rubbed his hands together with glee. “Awesome. I love presents.”

  Nerves returning, Tracy bit her lip. “I hope you like this one.”

  Ike draped his arm across her shoulder and they headed to the dining room together. “It’s from you. I’ll love it. Not quite as much as I love you, but close.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Always the charmer.”

  As soon as he saw the box, his eyes lit up like a kid. “That’s a big present.”

  “And they say size doesn’t count anymore.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. Size always counts.” He dropped a kiss on her head, then rushed forward to open his gift.

  Thankfully, he was happy. He was touched by the initial ‘T’ she’d stitched into the inside of his protector, so it would always rest above his heart. “New equipment’s a great idea.”

  “I’m glad. I know how superstitious you net minders can be and was worried you’d insist on your old gear.”

  Ike held up his now-healed arm. “Not when it means preventing this from happening again. Besides, I’ve still got my old leg pads.”

  “For now.”

  “What’s this?” Ike had picked up his new glove and discovered the small box nestled in the mesh. “It’d better not be a cup—it’s way too small.”

  Tracy shook her head, nerves tightening her throat.

  Ike looked at her curiously, then undid the gift-wrap and opened the box. He stared at the contents, saying nothing for several moments.

  Finally, he looked up, his expression carefully bland. “Are these what I think they are?”

  She nodded, then cleared her throat. “Ike Jelinek, will you marry me?”

  He caught the matching pair of gold rings on his forefinger and lifted them, so they glinted in the candlelight. “I’d ask if you’re sure, but these prove the answer is yes.”

  She nodded again. “What’s your answer going to be?”

  His eyes blazed with the emerald fire she loved so much. “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  Before she could respond, Ike swept her off her feet and into his arms.

  “Put me down! You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “Not a chance. I bench-press more than you every day.”

  “Don’t blame me if you pull a muscle, net boy.”

  “Stopping a six-ounce hunk of rubber traveling at over ninety miles an hour is no walk in the park,” Ike huffed. “So do we need to turn off dinner? I don’t want to be interrupted by the fire department.”

  Tracy grinned. “We’d better make that stop first.”

  He refused to set her down while she switched off the oven. He seemed unaffected by climbing the three flights of stairs to their room, though his breathing was a little ragged when he dropped her onto their bed.

  “See, I told you I was heavier than a puck,” she teased.

  “That may be, Tracy Hayden-soon-to-be-Jelinek. But now that I’ve caught you, I’m not letting you go.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. “Me, neither.”

  Just before Ike covered her mouth with his, he murmured, “Now, about that apron...”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from TO PROTECT HER SON by Stella MacLean.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  IF GAYLE SAWYER could have foreseen the day ahead she would never have gotten out of bed. She and Adam, her thirteen-year-old son, had argued last night and again this morning, leaving her drained and frightened.

  Her eyes gritty from lack of sleep, she stared across the raised counter at her friend Sherri Lawson, nurse in charge of today’s clinic at Eagle Mountain Medical Center. Neill Brandon would be there any minute, and Gayle had pulled the clinic charts for his patients, who sat with their families in the waiting area just a few feet from the desk.

  Everything was ready. Gayle glanced one more time at her watch as worry gnawed at her mind. She should have handled the argument with Adam differently last night. After all, she was the adult and should be able to reason with her son.

  “Just one more.” Sherri passed Gayle another chart, a square-cut diamond gleaming on her finger.

  Gayle couldn’t take her eyes off the ring. “Some people are born lucky,” she teased her best friend.

  Sherri touched her diamond. “Can you believe it? After everything that has happened, Neill and I have our dream back. We’ve waited a long time for our happiness.” A smile lit her face; her eyes shone as she leaned on the counter.

  Gayle had stopped dreaming about being happy fourteen years ago in Anaheim, California, when the judge had sentenced her husband, Harry Young, for armed robbery and shooting a police officer.

  Pregnant and alone, she’d vowed never to let her dreams mask reality. She’d worked so hard to make her son’s childhood a happy one, and to find a respectable life for herself. Nothing could be allowed to take all that she’d earned by dint of hard work and determination away from her.

  “Dreams can be wonderful,” she offered, unwilling to share the details of her past with anyone here in Eden Harbor. Her aunt Susan had died a year ago and left her a quaint Victorian house on a tree-lined street in this quiet, stately town. Gayle had moved, partly for the chance at a new life, and partly to get her son away from a group of teenagers that were having far too much influence in his life. She was happy to leave Anaheim. She never intended to return to the place that had caused her so much sorrow.

  “I’ve never been this happy,” Sherri said, a look of wonderment on her face.

  Gayle had never seen anyone as much in love as her best friend. “Your wedding plans are coming together so well. I still can’t believe we found those bridesmaid dresses in the first wedding boutique we went into in Boston.”

  The doors connecting the clinics to the rest of the hospital banged open. Her son, Adam, his dark hair smudging his forehead, his eyes angry, approached the desk where Gayle sat. The scent of shampoo and of the boy he still was swirled around her as he leaned over the desk. “Mom. You left this morning without giving me any money. I need money.”

  Embarrassed that Adam’s loud voice had attracted the glances of the people in the waiting room, she came around the desk, her eyes pleading with him to quiet down.

  “What do you need it for?” she asked, even though she knew. Adam had started playing video games, and he was always after her to pay for yet another game. They’d argued about it this morning, and now he had come into her workplace.

  “I promised to buy a game from a friend. He’s waiting for me to pay up. You know all this, Mom.”

  She’d encouraged him to play video games, but not because she approved of them. In her mind they were the lesser of two evils—video games or surfing the internet. She had a very powerful reason for not wanting him online—his father. “We talked about this last night. I don’t have the money. And besides, you just got a new one...”

  “Where’s your purse?” Adam glanced behind the desk. “There, right there.” He pointed to Gayle’s purse, which was still sitting under her desk. She hadn’t put it in her locker yet because she needed to pay her share for a staff shower gift for Sherri. One of the patients had knit a beautiful pale green throw for Sherri and Neill. “I don’t have any money...”

  “Yes, you do. I saw it last night.”

  “Adam! What were you doing going through my purse? You know better than that.”

  “I didn’t have a choice, did I?” Adam snorted. “You can go to the bank. I need cash now.” Adam came around the desk, reached down, grabbed her purse, yanked it open and pulled out her wallet.

  “Adam! Don’t!”

  “I need it, Mom.” He opened the section where the bills were. “You promised.”

  “No, I didn’t. Put that money back,” she said, mortified that everyone in the room could hear her son’s demands.

  Adam counted the bills. “There’s more than enough here.”

  Suddenly Sherri was standing next to Gayle. “Adam, why are you embarrassing your mother this way? She said she doesn’t have the money right now.”

  Gayle reached for her wallet, pulled it gently from Adam’s fingers and placed it back in her purse, speaking softly as she did so. “Please go, Adam. I promise we’ll talk about this again tonight before dinner.”

  “Not good enough,” Adam muttered, his eyes glistening, his expression one of anger and disappointment. “I want that game. I promised to buy it from my friend.”

  “You should have talked to me first.”

  “I did—last night.”

  “And what did I say?”

  “The same old thing—I should mow lawns and pay for my own games.”

  She wanted the world for her son, but she also wanted him to know how important it was to make his own way in life. “And my answer hasn’t changed.”

  Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes focused on some spot behind her. “Why do you have to be so mean?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Gayle saw Dr. Brandon come through the doors. “Adam, the clinic is about to start. You have to go.”

  “You don’t even care about me,” Adam said, his voice rising as he glanced around the room.

  “I love you,” she whispered emphatically.

  Gayle knew only too well how easily Adam could escalate an argument from a raised voice to yelling—so like his father. She took his arm, gently leading him toward the door. Once out in the hall, she turned to him. “Adam, those people in there are important to me, to us. This is my job and I can’t afford to lose it.”

  She wanted to hold her son in her arms the way she used to do when he was upset. She settled for touching his hand. “I know you’re going through a difficult time right now, and I want to help you. But you won’t be able to come back here if you act like this.”

  Adam could not continue this way, and she could not move again. Recognizing that what she was about to say would anger her son, she chose her words carefully. “If you keep this up, I’m going to have to get professional help for you.”

  “Mom, I... Why don’t you understand? All I need is a few dollars.” He was quieter now, his head down, the fingers of his right hand viciously attacking a hangnail.

  Gayle knew this wasn’t just about money. Her son felt angry and frustrated most of the time. Yet when he wasn’t angry, he was the Adam she’d loved and cared for these past thirteen years—a kind, bright, wonderful young man. She softened her tone, seeking to let her son know that she loved him more than anything in this world. “Go back to the house, and I’ll be there right after my shift. We’ll work this out, I promise.”

  He jutted his lower jaw, the resentment in his eyes fading to acquiescence. He gave a long, exaggerated sigh as he turned and went down the hall.

  Sherri came up behind her, standing beside
her as she anxiously watched her son leave. “Gayle, I’m so sorry. You’ve told me a little bit about the change in Adam’s behavior, but this is the first time I’ve seen it for myself.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.” She sighed, the old feelings of inadequacy engulfing her.

  “I’m not trying to interfere here, but I’ve got a suggestion that might help.”

  “I’m running out of ideas, so all suggestions gratefully accepted.”

  Except for talking to Sherri, she’d kept her concerns about Adam to herself, hoping that it was just part of being a teenager. But she couldn’t have him showing up at her workplace behaving the way he had today. She wanted to confide the whole story to someone, and Sherri was a good listener.

  When she’d come to Eden Harbor and the house her aunt Susan had left her, she worried about how Adam would react. It quickly became apparent her concerns were unfounded. He’d been great. He’d gotten a part-time job cutting grass in the neighborhood for his spending money. He had become more helpful around the house, much to Gayle’s relief. But in the past couple of weeks, Adam had had to be cajoled into mowing lawns. When he was around the house, he seemed distant, quicker to anger, resentful at times and harder to talk to. In fact, the old rapport they’d shared had almost disappeared. Until this moment, Gayle had let it pass.

  “Would it help if he had someone to talk to?” Sherri asked. “Someone who related well to teenage boys?”

  Gayle’s biggest fear was that her son would get involved with the wrong crowd and turn out like his father. Harry probably had been a normal teenager who’d got in with a bad crowd, and now spent every day inside prison walls. She couldn’t let that happen to Adam. “It might make a difference. I honestly don’t know.”

  “There is a mentoring program in Eden Harbor for troubled teens. Would you consider something like that?”