by Lily Harlem
One caught my interest. It was from the cleaning company, Ice Bright, also asking also for a renewal of contract. After pulling up the original, signed by my father, I sat back to read.
Only two pages in and alarm bells went off in my head. This contract was ludicrous and the charges extortionate. There were more managers than cleaners and no extra staff on game days. Plus, despite it being in the contract that the outside of the arena was also part of the deal, not one person, from what I could make out on a separate allocation document, ever went out there.
I rubbed my temples. No wonder the place was filled with litter and looking filthy. I’d have to sort this out before Mr. Kovic arrived.
Spurred on with indignation that my father had been taken for a ride by this work-shirking cleaning company, I set to business. I arranged for the CEO of Ice Bright to come in later that day and also for another company to quote for taking on the job. I wouldn’t just sit back on my laurels like Dad and let things slip by, that wasn’t how I was going to save money, not by a long shot.
My phone rang and I answered it briskly. “Yes?”
“Representative from Sports Network on the line, Miss Gunner,” my secretary informed me.
“Great, put him through.”
There was a click and then, “Hi, this is Blake from Sports Network.”
“Thanks for calling back.” I said.
“No problem. Can we set up a time to discuss broadcasting rights? I’m free later this week.”
“Perfect.” I flicked open my diary. “Friday, ten?”
“Sure, see you then.”
I ended the call, stood and walked to the window to stare at the white-hot heat of the day. The sun was a glowing orb in a brilliant blue sky raining down golden heat. Suddenly I no longer felt like the little girl who was afraid of the sea, or who found flying a real strain on her nerves. I was a fighter, grabbing what I wanted, taking on the world and standing up for what was right. I’d make my father proud. I’d turn this ’round with my attention to detail, by thinking out of the box and not tolerating slackers or ridiculous wages.
I didn’t need anyone. I could do this. Stand tall and show the world that this was a challenge I would hit square on and win with determination and sharp thinking. I might not be able to hit a puck, and to be honest, skating was a bit of a drama for me too, but I could and would run this team successfully despite being thought of as a spoiled rich girl.
I walked to the printer, lifted Dustin’s contract and shuffled it neat. After stapling it at the top left-hand corner, I picked up a fountain pen, signed in my section and then printed my name beneath. That was one big saving right there.
Deal done.
I glanced at the clock. It was midday. The players would be on the ice now, going through their daily training regimen.
Like a magnetic pull I was drawn out of my office and to the viewing window. I stood, hands on hips, looking down at my multimillion-dollar team working out.
The rink was lit now, the ice a dazzling snow-white with azure-blue and scarlet-red marking the areas. Several hulking players were dashing about, flicking pucks so fast the small discs were nothing but a black blur. It was hard to tell who was who, they didn’t have team uniforms on, but one thing was for sure, Dustin was in the goal farthest from me. I couldn’t see his face clearly, he had on his helmet and his cage was down, but the huge set of his shoulders, his stance that reminded me of an impenetrable brick wall and the way he filled the net with his solid mass was unmistakable.
Phoenix was in the faceoff circle—he had Taylor written on his back—and was playing with a puck, tapping it as he spun on the spot, trying, I guessed, to confuse Dustin as to when it would come his way. Suddenly he struck out, took the shot. It was a good one, fast and accurate, but not fast or accurate enough. Dustin stopped it with a stretch of his arm and slung it back across the ice. Another player caught it, hip-checked Phoenix and then went for a shot. Again it was a no-go. Dustin was too big, too quick and too damn good.
A bubble of pride went through me. I really did have the best goaltender in the NHL. He set a hard daily practice for a group of the most skilled players in the world. No wonder they came up with the results more often than not.
Mike slid onto the ice with a hockey stick in his hand, his blades a silver streak. He called Phoenix over and the other player who’d taken a strike and seemingly started to discuss details.
I looked at Dustin again. He’d removed his helmet and was running his hand over his hair.
I clenched my fists and remembered what he felt like to touch. The prickle of his short cut was almost tangible on my skin. I swallowed as my heart lurched. I’d successfully managed not to think about him for more than a few minutes in the last five hours, but all the good of that had been undone by seeing him for just a handful of seconds.
He raised his face and looked directly at me.
My breathing stuttered. A flush traveled through my body. It was as if he’d felt my gaze on him and had known I was thinking of us together, touching, flesh on flesh.
He didn’t smile, didn’t raise a hand or tip his head. Just stared.
I stared back, a thousand thoughts and words rushing through my mind. I wanted to convey that I’d missed him before he’d even walked away from me yesterday. Had spent the night working out detailed plans for the team so that I didn’t cry myself to sleep thinking of him. That my bed had felt big, cold and lonely without his body to curl around mine.
But between us was a thick layer of glass, the stretch of a rink, and a ton of players and coaches he didn’t want to know about us.
We were over.
I turned, determined to be the first to look away, and headed back into my office. I had a security company to call, one that needed to be reminded about the rules of letting rink bunnies in to the locker room.
*
Another four hours passed. I crammed my schedule for the next week with meetings and appointments, all with the intention of cutting my budget. From merchandising and energy saving to raising the price of rink-side snacks that had been the same for over eight years. I thought of it all and set the wheels in motion for a ton of small savings that would all hopefully add up to a much bigger one.
When my stomach rumbled I munched a chicken salad wrap that I’d brought from home and then washed it down with a bottle of water. Every ten minutes or so I was tempted to go and look at the rink again, right up until I knew the players would have gone for the day. Then it was a relief to know that I didn’t have to stretch the delicate shred of willpower that was keeping me in my office. They’d have all gone home, or to a bar, or off with a rink bunny to do bad hockey-player things.
The thought of Dustin with someone else turned my chicken wrap into a leaden weight in my stomach. The image was repulsive to me and it sickened my heart as well as my guts. But what was the point in those emotions? He wasn’t mine. I had no right to be jealous.
A sudden knock on my office door raised my head from my laptop, which I’d been staring at unseeing.
Dustin stood there, filling the frame. His hair was a little damp, perhaps from a recent shower, and his white t-shirt with a small Viper logo on the right breast hugged his chest.
A pinching sensation attacked my breasts and I pressed my legs together to ward off a rush of heat.
A bit of warning that he was visiting my office would have been nice. That way I would have time to put on a mask of okayness and brace myself for the devilish things he made my body remember and want all over again. But at least he wasn’t with someone else, at least not yet.
“Good practice?” I asked, trying to sound causal.
“Yeah, not bad. Good to be back on the ice after a few days off.” He walked into the room and a waft of his aftershave filtered my way.
I shut my laptop and wondered how long I could hold my breath. Did he really have to attack all of my senses? Make each and every one of them long for him?
“I spoke to my ag
ent,” he said. “He’s been on to your lawyer, seems everything is ready to be signed and sealed.”
I blew out a breath. “Yep, here you go.” I pushed the contract across my table, sliding it on the polished wood toward him. “You want to read it through first.”
He shrugged and stepped closer. “Nah, my agent has, that’ll do for me. He might be pissed at me for undoing his hard work but he still looks out for my best interest.”
“Yes, of course.” I tried not to stare at the way his worn jeans hugged his package. Then tried and failed not to think about how I’d released those very buttons just the day before and taken him into my mouth. Damn, he’d come so hard, I nearly had too, just from giving him head.
I licked my lips as I handed him my fountain pen and forced my gaze upward. “Here, I’ve signed already.”
He took the pen, leaned down and looked me in the eye. The right side of his mouth twitched. “You really think you can cope with me for the next three seasons, sweet cheeks?”
I couldn’t help but smile. He did that to me. “I think I can handle you just fine, Speed.” My heart softened, the air in my body seemed to float me upward and my stomach did a little leap of hope that we still had a spark.
But we didn’t. I was fooling myself. Sparks were no good at starting a fire that had no oxygen to breathe.
Quickly I pushed my chair away, stood and walked to the window, showing him my back. What was I doing smiling and going all gooey? I couldn’t let him get to me like that. Make me want him. Allow him to call me sweet cheeks and permit his damn delicious cologne to get my body buzzing.
The room was so silent I heard the scrape of the pen on paper, a flourish and a flick and then the click of the lid being replaced.
I watched a lime-green motorbike whiz across the lot, leaving a hot dark trail where the wheel spun from the parking space. Brick, I guessed. He was renowned for burning rubber on his Kawasaki.
A sudden warmth on my back told me Dustin had come to stand close, real close right behind me.
I froze, trapped between him and the window. I’d never felt more hemmed in, more devoid of an escape route. Not that I wanted to escape him.
I closed my eyes and braced myself to be strong.
But could I be? All I wanted was to fall into his arms. Temptation was a bitch and she was slapping me on the butt.
I prayed he wouldn’t say something sweet or tell me he regretted his decision for us not to be together or, heaven forbid, actually touch me. I’d weaken to mush if he did that. Gone would be the efficient, competent Miss Gunner, I’d just be sweet cheeks lost in his arms, ready to block out the rest of the world and sacrifice my dignity to be with him on whatever terms he wanted.
He touched me on my right shoulder.
I juddered in a breath.
“Gina,” he whispered.
My actual name once again sounded foreign on his lips. “What?” I swallowed, but my mouth was dry and I was sure he could hear the scraping in my throat.
“I just…” He trailed off.
“Tell me.”
He slid his arm down my shoulder, to my elbow and onto my hand. I stared at his thick, hairy forearm, at the way the tendons moved beneath his tanned skin and how his three thread bracelets sat on his wrist a little crooked. I loved his arms. I loved his touch. I wanted nothing more than to rest back into him, tell him everything, remove my mask and just be me again.
“On the island,” he murmured, his lips by my ear. “I’ve never felt so—”
“Huh-hum.”
The loud clearing of a throat behind us snapped Dustin away from me. His touch and his body heat were gone in an instant. He wasn’t called Speed for nothing.
Heart skittering, I folded my arms, set my jaw tight and turned.
Vadmir stood in the doorway, his blond hair also damp and a leather jacket over the same Viper logo t-shirt Dustin was wearing.
“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” he asked, looking between us with his pale eyebrows raised.
“No, buddy, just finalizing a contract.” Dustin walked over to him and slapped his hand on Vadmir’s shoulder, the sound of flesh on leather creating a crack. “Seems our new boss is pretty smart at getting what she wants out of us.”
“I wouldn’t argue with that.” Vadmir grinned at me in that predatory way of his and I remembered what Dustin had said about him chewing me up and spitting me out had I gone to bed with him back at the hotel.
Not that I would have. It seemed Dustin “Speed” Reed had been the only man I could think of since the very first time he’d called me sweet cheeks. No one else had been on my radar since, despite being surrounded by a glut of hot guys.
And he’d just walked away from me all over again.
Chapter Eighteen
“What can I do for you, Vadmir?” I asked, sitting and placing my hands beneath the table. They were shaking, which annoyed me. I shouldn’t have let Dustin get to me like that. Shouldn’t have let him get so close and I absolutely shouldn’t have allowed Vadmir to catch us like that. It was hardly professional conduct for the new boss of the Vipers.
“I’ve got a problem,” Vadmir said, walking up to the desk. “Back home.”
“In Russia?’
“Yes, my father, he is ill, seriously ill. I need to go to him as soon as possible.”
“Well, of course—”
“But you are worried about the game tomorrow night, Miss Gunner. I know I should stay and—”
I held up my hand. “Hey, I know what you’re going through. It’s not so long ago I raced back from Paris to my father who was critically ill. You should go now if that’s what you want.”
He shook his head and frowned.
“Listen,” I said, “you’re a valuable member of the team, the last thing we want is for you to not be here, but family comes first and if he’s that sick…”
“He is, I just spoke with my mother, she is… How do you say…? In bits and pieces.”
“Then there is no question about it, you’re needed. Mike will figure it out with the lineup, this is why we have subs, for injuries and emergencies just like this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course.” I frowned. “And I hope he’s all right when you get there.”
Vadmir shook his head and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “That is what I hope for too.”
“Can you fly today?”
“No, next flight to Moscow is tomorrow morning. And then once I arrive I must take a drive of four hours to Vologda.”
“Well, safe journey, and here.” I handed him one of my business cards. “My personal cell number is on there. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help from this end.”
He took the card and stared at it, looking exhausted and relieved all at the same time. “Thank you, Miss Gunner. I really appreciate you understanding like this. It is more than I could have hoped.”
“It’s no problem at all.”
“We’re lucky to have you.” He nodded. “I can see that now. The team, I mean. Lucky to have you.”
“Thanks.” I smiled for the first time since I’d applied a Band-Aid to my heart. “That means a lot.”
Vadmir left and I nibbled my bottom lip. He would be missed, he was a great player, but I did believe family came first. It was the way I was wired.
I opened my laptop, intent on tackling a few more emails, but I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think of was what Dustin had been about to say. On the island he’d never felt so what? Relaxed, hot for it, in love? No. I shook my head, not that last one. Impossible.
I stroked my arm, retracing his touch. What would have happened if Vadmir hadn’t interrupted us? Perhaps Dustin would have gone on to say how much he regretted being with me, that it was going to be awkward beyond belief now and not worth a few days of fun and a couple of wild and sexy romps.
I dropped my head, plastered my fingers over my face and groaned. No, he wasn’t like that, I was sure of it. I’d se
en the soft center he kept hidden beneath his tough outer shell. He was a guy who loved kids, helped out whenever he could, wasn’t afraid to stand up to what was right and what was wrong. All of those were qualities that had made me fall for him hook, line and sinker. Would he really spin on a dime and be so cruel to me now?
It was something I couldn’t imagine and didn’t want to. The only thing for it was to accept that we’d been a fling. Nothing more and nothing less.
*
The game against the Red Wings had the players on edge, so Mike told me in the corridor outside the locker room. With Vadmir out and after the previous week’s defeat, spirits were not as high as they should be. Add in Raven needing extra rest because of an old injury flaring up and the mood in the locker room was solemn.
I wrung my hands together, wishing I hadn’t decided to carry on Dad’s crazy tradition of giving a pregame pep talk. Now not only did I have to worry about what to say to all the sullen big hunks of muscle in there, I also had to face the man who’d stolen every one of my dreams the night before.
His face had loomed from the darkness, smiling, laughing, teasing, coming. I’d seen his every expression in my sleep and loved them all. When I’d woken, in that moment before fantasy turned back to reality, I’d reached for him, stupidly expecting to find his hot, hard body warming the sheets of my bed, ready to warm me.
“Shall we?” Mike asked, opening the door.
“Sure.” I stepped in. I wore the same cream power suit I’d worn the day before, but instead of scarlet blouse and heels, I’d picked emerald green. The top was silky with a ruffled collar and the shoes had peep toes.
As always the scent of male bodies and the distant smell of ice made me feel slightly out of place and ultrafeminine, a combination I found both alluring and unsettling. I forced down a glut of nerves, visualized the speech I’d rehearsed as if it were written in front of me, and followed Mike.
“Miss Gunner,” Ramrod said. His face grim was grim and he was banging his gloved hands together, creating sharp whacking sounds.
“Ramrod.” I nodded and looked around the room, purposely skimming my gaze over Dustin. But that was a hard task. Bigger than everyone else because of his padding and swirling his stick in his hands, he drew my attention the moment I spoke.
