Skating on Thin Ice: Seattle Sockeyes (Game On in Seattle Book 1)

by Jami Davenport

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Chapter 1—The Penalty Box

  Chapter 2—Playing His Game

  Chapter 3—Breakaway

  Chapter 4—Clipping

  Chapter 5—In the Net

  Chapter 6—Check to the Head

  Chapter 7—Face Off

  Chapter 8—Delayed Offside

  Chapter 9—Cross-Checking

  Chapter 10—Cooper on Ice

  Chapter 11—Goal on Net

  Chapter 12—Misconduct

  Chapter 13—Major Penalty

  Chapter 14—Shootout

  Chapter 15—Rebound

  Chapter 16—Tripping

  Chapter 17—High Stick

  Chapter 18—Penalty Kill

  Chapter 19—The Top Shelf

  CRASHING THE BOARDS EXCERPT

  COMPLETE BOOKLIST

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  SKATING ON THIN ICE

  By Jami Davenport

  SEATTLE SOCKEYES

  GAME ON IN SEATTLE SERIES #1

  Copyright © 2014 by Cedrona Enterprises

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Jami Davenport. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This Ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

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  This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Email: jamidavenport@hotmail.com

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  He trusts his gut, she trusts her numbers, and neither trusts the other, as a billionaire's mission to bring hockey to Seattle clashes with his passion for the woman who holds his heart.

  Ethan Parker, a billionaire determined to bring a professional hockey to Seattle, will stop at nothing to realize his dream. After signing an agreement to purchase another city's team, Ethan is anxious to make the move to Seattle, but a gag order by the League forces him to keep the sale a secret until the season ends, leaving him no choice but to go undercover as a consultant to study his team during the playoffs.

  Lauren Schneider, Assistant Director of Player Personnel for the Giants hockey team, gets no respect from the team's testosterone-loaded staff. When Ethan bursts onto the scene, full of charm and genuinely interested in her opinions, she shares the team's weaknesses and discovers a weakness of her own--for Ethan. But when his true identity is revealed, and he starts cleaning house based on her unwitting input, his betrayal cuts deeply on both a professional and personal level. Bound by an employment contract, Lauren reluctantly moves to Seattle to work for the newly christened Seattle Sockeyes and her sexy, infuriating boss.

  Lauren and Ethan must come to terms with their passions--for the team, for hockey, and for each other. Will their situation build a frozen wall between them, or will their love burn hot enough to melt the ice shielding their hearts?

  DEDICATION

  For Patty, for the love of the game, this one’s for you.

  And to all those hockey fans in the Pacific Northwest waiting for those in power to do the right thing and give us a team.

  Special thanks to Wade and Jessica, united through hockey and skating, the cutest couple ever.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I'm so thrilled to introduce my new sports romance series, Game On in Seattle, which will include subseries for Seattle Sockeyes hockey, a Seattle baseball team, and a new Seattle football team.

  It's never easy to leave the comfort of the known for the unknown. Skating on Thin Ice is my first foray into indie publishing. You'll notice some fun changes, such as old characters returning from previously published books. In the case of Skating on Thin Ice, Brad Reynolds, who first appeared in my Evergreen Dynasty series as the party-boy Reynolds brother, is Ethan's best friend.

  I'm a huge Seattle sports fan, which comes as no surprise to those of you who've hung out on my Facebook or Twitter or read my former series. I've been crossing all my toes and fingers that Seattle will get a professional hockey team in the near future. Since as of this writing that hasn't happened yet, I decided to create that very scenario in my fictional world with the Seattle Sockeyes and give Seattle the hockey team the Pacific Northwest fans so deserve.

  Chapter 1—The Penalty Box

  Ethan Parker came into this world with a silver spoon in his mouth. He would’ve preferred a hockey stick in his hands, but sometimes those were the breaks.

  He’d never skate in the pros or hoist the Stanley Cup in victory, but that didn’t squelch his enthusiasm for everything hockey. Two to three times a week, he played for an adult league in a rink minutes south of Seattle, while he dreamed of one day bringing professional hockey to the Emerald City.

  And maybe, just maybe, he’d realize that dream in the near future.

  Months ago the Sleezer brothers—yes, seriously that was their name—contacted the Puget Sound Hockey Alliance through Ethan’s attorney, Cyrus North, with an offer Ethan couldn’t refuse, so he did what any billionaire with a hockey obsession would do—he wrote them a big check and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Increasingly impatient, he slid a blank check for expansion fees under the table to the league and waited some more. Nothing happened. Not a damn, fucking thing. So much for money talking. His considerable bankroll wasn’t even whispering to the hockey powers that be.

  It’d been months since he’d heard even a peep. While a day didn’t go by that he didn’t wonder what the hell was or wasn’t happening, tonight wasn’t about his frustrations with professional hockey. Tonight was all about immersing himself at the game’s most basic level while getting down and dirty with his amateur teammates. Tonight was about playing the game he loved with a bunch of guys equally as rabid. And tonight reminded him of all the reasons why he couldn’t give up until Seattle had a big-league hockey franchise.

  Hockey fans like these deserved a team. The city deserved a team. And the effing Canucks deserved an effing rival. Oh, yeah, he could picture it now. Ethan grinned at the thought of trading trash-talk with some of his Canadian business associates.

  Regardless, he forced himself back to the here and now. His team, the Mercer Mets, were playing for the adult league trophy, against the too-many-fucking-time champion Bothell Bombers. He’d looked forward to this game all day long—hell, all week long—and had arrived e
arly to take practice shots at the net until he was cross-eyed.

  Both teams traded scores in the first two periods until the Bombers took the lead with three minutes remaining in the third. Ethan skated down the ice after a runaway puck only to have Hal Johnson, a dirty player who’d had it out for Ethan all season, slam an elbow into his face. Skidding on his shoulder, Ethan hit the boards head first, sending waves of pain through his neck and back to all parts of his body. Even his dick hurt. Gathering his bruised wits about him and angrier than hell, he shot to his feet, head down, and rammed into Johnson, lifting the asshole off his skates and catapulting him across the ice.

  Whistles blew and striped shirts stepped between them before they could do real damage to each other. Ethan attempted to lunge at the asshole but his teammates held him back. Fighting didn’t go over very well in this amateur league, but that’d never stopped Johnson before, and Ethan had been known to drop the gloves a time or two when absolutely necessary. He deemed this necessary. Obviously, the referee didn’t agree. Within seconds Ethan cooled his ass in the penalty box.

  Fine. Whatever. Fuck this.

  He pounded his hockey stick against the boards in a futile effort to spur his team on to winning the trophy.

  The Mercer Mets’ goalie, a convenience store clerk who spent every spare penny on hockey equipment and fees, pushed up his mask to wipe away the sweat then hunkered down again as Bothell Bombers skated toward his net. Nat, the Mets’ best defenseman and a laid-off Boeing machinist, cut off the Bombers’ center and took a hack at the puck. Not pretty, but it shot down the ice away from the net where Syd, their top scorer and a city cop, sped after it and a hit slap shot toward the net. It missed by a fraction.

  Ethan glanced at the scoreboard. Seconds left. Leaping to his feet, he shouted encouragement, but it was too late. The final buzzer sounded. With a heavy sigh, Ethan skated back onto the ice to shake hands with the opposing team like the good sport he really wasn’t. Except for Johnson. Instead he trash-talked the jerk as he walked by and engaged in a pushing match until their respective teammates pried them apart once more. Since he wasn’t going to get any satisfaction, Ethan headed for the locker room, sad to see the season end. It’d been damn fun while it lasted, but there was always next year.

  “Ethan.” Cyrus, his attorney, stopped him short as he stepped off the ice.

  “Come to watch me skate like crap and blow the game for the guys, Cy?” Ethan managed a grin despite how pissed he was at himself. Sure it was just a game in an adult league, but he hated losing. Hell, it could’ve been a pickup game of basketball in the parking lot and he’d treat it like the NBA finals.

  Only Cy was grinning, and Ethan doubted it was because he enjoyed Ethan’s pain—which the bastard usually did.

  “They’re ready, E.” He kept grinning, and Ethan could not for the life of him understand what the fuck they were ready for.

  “Ready?” Ethan halted and squinted at his friend, not making sense of the words. That blow he’d taken to the head earlier must’ve done more damage than he’d originally thought.

  “All our hard work is about to pay off.” Cy looked ready to pee his pants from excitement.

  Ethan went still inside, as Cy’s words sank into his thick skull. His heart stopped beating. His lungs stopped heaving. Nothing moved. Not an eyelash. Cy waited patiently, still grinning.

  “What did you say?” Ethan pushed his dark hair off his forehead and wiped his face with a towel Nat tossed his way.

  “They want to sell. The league is on board. Everything’s in place but with the stipulation that the sale be kept absolutely quiet as long as the Giants are in the playoffs.” Cyrus, a hockey fan in his own right, hopped from one foot to the other as if he were walking over hot coals. His hips swayed, and he danced to the disco music constantly playing in his head. He wouldn’t win Dancing with the Stars, but Ethan gave him points for enthusiasm.

  “Playoffs?” Ethan said.

  “Yeah, the Giants made the playoffs tonight by a thread.”

  Ethan sat down hard on one of the bleacher seats, looking up at Cyrus. “As late as last week, the Sleezers swore they’d go down with their sinking ship.”

  “That was before they lost a harassment lawsuit to a few former employees. Now a couple hundred million in their pockets is looking damn good.” Cyrus checked his watch. “I have the private jet idling on the tarmac at Boeing Field before the flakes change their minds. Again.”

  “Did you call Reynolds?”

  Brad Reynolds had been Ethan’s best friend since junior high football. The Reynolds family represented old Seattle money. Even if their fortune might be somewhat diminished of late, they still commanded instant respect and brandished major political clout. That political clout was proving to be more valuable than the cash when it came to getting permits approved for the new ice arena. Brad, the middle Reynolds brother, had jumped on board immediately as the family representative, while his two brothers, parents, and a sister came along for the ride as somewhat silent partners. None of them knew a damn thing about hockey, but they loved sports and were more than willing to learn.

  “Yeah, Brad’s on his way. He’ll meet us at Boeing Field.”

  Ethan checked his watch. Six-thirty on a Saturday. It was going to be a long but profitable night. “Crap. Let me shower, and I’ll be out in fifteen.”

  Ethan made it out in nine minutes. The only reason he wasn’t quicker was because of the required commiserating with his teammates over the abrupt end of their season.

  Several hours later, Ethan and Brad signed on the dotted line as majority shareholders and main representatives of the Puget Sound Hockey Alliance.

  Seattle had a professional hockey team.

  Only no one could know it.

  Not yet.

  * * * *

  For the first thirty years of his life, Ethan had concentrated on building his family’s already massive fortune, but making money had lost its luster. The thrill had gone. With his family’s blessing, he’d turned to a different pursuit. Parkers were good citizens, and good citizens gave back to their community. Ethan’s gift to Seattle manifested itself in the form of a state-of-the-art hockey arena. Of course, then he needed a team to play in it.

  He had pursued that goal with a single-minded purpose, amassing a who’s-who of Seattle businessmen, along with the Reynolds family, to be part of his merry band of marauders bent on stealing a struggling hockey franchise from another city and resurrecting it in Seattle. He’d worked zealously in the background, never showing his face, never tipping his hand. He was the man behind the mirror—the Emerald City’s hockey wizard.

  He would’ve preferred an expansion team, but he was an impatient man, and impatient men took advantage of their opportunities.

  After the signing, Ethan and Brad dragged their asses to an all-night diner. Ethan leaned forward in the booth with his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. Brad sat opposite him, also deep in thought. Most people took Brad at face value, considering him a shallow playboy. Ethan knew better. Behind Brad’s easy smile and smooth-talking lurked a guy with as much determination as Ethan to see this thing through and create a winning tradition of hockey in Seattle. Ethan expected nothing less of his partner in crime.

  “When are we flying back?” Brad finally turned his head away from his study of a beach volleyball game playing on the one TV in the diner.

  “I’m not. I’m staying on. This is a prime opportunity to study every aspect of the team during the season, and I’m taking advantage of it.”

  “But the league and the Sleezers put a gag order on your pending purchase and the team’s subsequent move. If anyone leaks information about the offer before the final game of the season, the deal is off, especially since we’re moving the team.”

  “I know. I was there, too. Remember? But I have options. It’s no secret the team is in financial straits and destined to be sold.”

  Brad nodded and smiled. “I can see your devious mind s
pinning.”

  “I’m taking a page out of Undercover Boss.”

  “Seriously? Are you going to wear a wig and mustache, too?”

  Ethan sighed. Sometimes, he swore Brad didn’t have a serious bone in his body. “I’ll be using a different last name. I’m not recognizable because I’ve avoided the limelight. I’ll be getting an insider’s view of the team from top to bottom, from the first line to the fourth line, from the GM to the administrative assistant. I’ll evaluate who’ll make the move to Seattle and who needs to go.”

  “And so how are you going undercover?”

  “As a representative for a potential buyer to determine the team’s worth and its investment potential.”

  Brad nodded. “Clever. People will be more likely to give you the honest scoop if they believe you can’t fire them, but they’ll be pissed as hell when they find out you’ve duped them.”

  Ethan shrugged, no stranger to pissing people off. Not that he made a habit of it, but his drive and ambition often did the job for him. “This isn’t a popularity contest. This is about winning.”

  And that, to Ethan, was the bottom line.

  * * * *

  Lauren Schneider rolled over in bed and frowned at her cell laying on the nightstand, its face illuminated by an incoming call. Who the hell called a person at six-thirty AM on a Sunday unless it was an emergency?

  Usually she’d wake up at this hour, ready to attack the day, but the Gainesville Giants hockey team had advanced to the playoffs for the first time in years with their win over Ottawa last night. Of course, it helped that the league had increased the number of playoff teams recently, which opened up wildcard slots not available in the past. After the win, she’d attended the team party to celebrate. Lauren usually didn’t participate in such parties, but she made an exception last night, and in the process imbibed a little too much.