Going for the Goal

by Sara Rider

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

  She laughed. “I’m a sweaty mess.” Her skirt was bunched around her waist, skin mottled and flushed, and she didn’t even want to think about the state of her hair.

  He rolled to the side, twisting her body to face him. “I like you like this. Unguarded.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, trailing his fingers down her neck and along her collarbone.

  “Don’t get used to it,” she said flippantly, a defensive reaction to his unexpected tenderness.

  His mouth hardened into a grim line. “I don’t intend for this to be a one-time thing.”

  “I’m your agent.”

  “So? You’re the one who forbade me from having casual sex.”

  She frowned, struggling to come up with the words to explain, but it was too hard to think straight wrapped in his arms.

  “Do you really think this thing between us is so meaningless that it can be thrown away now that you’ve gotten your fix?”

  She stiffened. The faint hum of the air conditioner kicked on and the cool breeze chilled her skin. “It’s not like that. It’s just . . . it’s hard enough being a woman in this job. Most people already assume I’m sleeping my way to the top. If anyone actually found out I was sleeping with a client—”

  “I’d kick their ass if they said anything bad about you.”

  She tucked her head into his chest, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “I appreciate that. I really do. But I can take care of my own problems.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “No.” She kissed a line along his jaw. His cock stirred against her stomach and he pulled her into him. “I just think this needs to be something quiet. Just between you and me. At least for now.”

  He smiled, but the soft lines that usually crinkled around his eyes weren’t there. “That mean I get to spend the night?”

  She snuck her hand down to circle his erection, relishing the soft groan that escaped his lips. “I’d hunt you down if you didn’t.”

  They could figure out the details tomorrow. Tonight, she wasn’t ready to let him go.

  17

  “So, uh, it’s my twenty-eighth birthday this weekend.”

  Of all the things Nick expected Luke to say to him after the practice from hell, the awkward birthday announcement was nowhere on the list. “Am I supposed to bring cupcakes to your party or something?”

  Luke ran his hand along the back of his neck. “No. I think my sister’s already taking care of that. But it’d be great if you could show up on Saturday.”

  “Seriously? You’re having an actual birthday party?” Nick and Mike were already planning on taking him out for a drink like they did every year.

  “It’s Claire’s idea. She and her friend are coming to stay with me for a few days and she’s decided to throw a party to repay me. Look, I know it’s weird, but it’ll be even weirder if no one comes. Claire’s really into planning stuff and tends to go overboard sometimes, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  Nick stopped untying his skates long enough to watch his buddy squirm before finally taking pity on him. “Yeah, sure. But I’m not singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and there’d better not be any clowns or magicians.”

  “I can’t guarantee anything except that there will be beer. And you can bring a date, too. I’m sure Claire will cook enough for a small army.”

  Nick’s mind immediately flashed to an image of Jillian sitting next to him at Luke’s table, laughing and charming everyone in her effortless way. He liked that image. A lot. But he hadn’t seen her in the two weeks since they’d gotten back from LA. Not since she’d given in to the attraction between them and let him taste every inch of her body. Maybe this was the excuse he needed to change that. “Sounds good.”

  “You slept with Jillian?”

  Nick pulled his cell phone away from his ringing ear and switched to speakerphone. Ben’s excited squeal was going to give him premature hearing loss. “I never said that.”

  “You said you needed more advice, which means my original advice was successful.”

  “I didn’t even tell you what I wanted advice about.” Nick squeezed the mustard bottle over the slab of bread he’d laid on the counter earlier, but only a thin trickle of clear liquid came out. Right. Supposed to shake the bottle first.

  “The only things you ask my opinion about are decorating, cooking, and relationships. And the only reason you’d ask me about any of those three things is to get a woman in bed.”

  “Fine. Maybe something happened. But I was calling to ask you how you make your roast beef sandwiches so good.”

  “Watercress. They sell it at the market on the corner. Spicy deli mustard, then three folded slices of the good roast beef from the deli down the street. And don’t forget to butter the bread before you add the mustard.”

  Crap. Forgot the butter. “If you moved here, you could make me sandwiches all the time.”

  “If I moved there, I’d be too busy with my fabulous Broadway career to make you any sandwiches.”

  Nick laughed. “Fair enough.”

  “Good, now tell me what went wrong with Jillian.”

  “It’s complicated.” He gave up trying to fold the meat slices and slapped them down flat on his sandwich of mediocrity.

  “Let me guess. A clingy, emotional wreck after one night of passion?”

  “She’s not like that,” he said defensively.

  “I was talking about you, doofus.”

  Nick groaned. “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Calm down, I’ll stop teasing you and help. Just give me some more details.”

  “I need her to come to Luke’s party with me on Saturday.”

  “And you couldn’t find any words in the English language to ask her?”

  He took a bite of his sandwich, thinking through how to describe the frustration and uncertainty that had racked him since they’d left LA. “She’s probably going to say no. I just don’t understand why these things have to be complicated. She said she’s worried about how an agent-client relationship would look, but I have no idea if that was just some kind of brush-off.”

  “She’s a strong woman, and she probably doesn’t need a man. But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t appreciate one. The trick is to not barge your way in. Offer, and listen to what she’s telling you.” Ben paused. “Are you taking notes?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “And if you’re really feeling adventurous, you could just tell her how you feel about her.”

  “What if that makes things weird?”

  “You’re the one who said this should be simple. Besides, sometimes you have to take risks when it comes to love.”

  Nick cringed. “This isn’t—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Deny it all you want. Anyway, how are things going on the career front?”

  Finally a topic that didn’t make him feel like he was being eviscerated with a rusty scythe. “Nothing yet. Utah’s going to make a move soon, I think. Michalchuk is still cagey and Liakos is still an asshole, but Jillian’s handling it.”

  The rest of the conversation followed their typical pattern of casual updates on their lives, including all the gossip about Blades. If it were up to Nick, he’d never have to hear another story of their dad’s drunken shenanigans, but Ben struggled to let their dad deal with the consequences of his own actions, despite the fact that the man had pretty much disowned Ben more than a decade ago. Another reason to get his brother out of that godforsaken town.

  By the time they hung up, Nick had lost all desire to finish his sad-looking sandwich, but he did come up with a better alternative. He dialed Jillian’s number.

  “Hey! I was just going to call you.”

  Her voice hit him like a warm blast of sun right in the chest. “My buddy Luke is having a small party for his birthday on Saturday. I
want you to come.”

  A heavy silence filtered through the receiver. “As your date?”

  “Sure as hell wasn’t planning to offer you to Luke as a birthday present.”

  She laughed. “What kind of party are we talking about?”

  “Nothing big. Just a couple of guys from the team and his sister. No one who would make a big deal of you and me.”

  “I’ll have to see if I’m free, okay?”

  It felt like another brush-off. He’d been trying to avoid pressuring her over the past couple weeks, hoping she would make the next move if he gave her enough space, but he was tired of waiting. “What about tonight? We could have dinner.”

  “Dinner would be great. But I need to meet with Allan Tyson this afternoon. I think Utah made an offer. Do you want to come to the meeting or let me handle it?”

  He tightened his grip on the phone. Of course it was business first. Then again, she’d been clear that would always be her first priority, so he shouldn’t have been surprised that it was the reason she’d been planning on calling him. “Sure. I can make a reservation afterward.”

  “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He paused, waiting to see if she would offer up some kind of explanation.

  “How about delivery pizza instead?” she said quickly. “We’ll have a lot of business to talk about after the meeting and it’s better to keep that private.”

  His dick did a happy dance at the idea of being alone with her, but the rest of his body tensed like it was being squeezed in a giant vise. “Sounds good.”

  Patience was not one of his strong suits, but he was going to have to trust his brother’s advice a little longer.

  “There are a lot of people who feel it would be best if you were willing to waive your no-trade clause and take Utah’s offer.”

  Nick leaned back in his seat and glared at Allan Tyson. He had known this was coming, but it still felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Tyson had been with the Vipers as long as Nick, and they’d always had a good, bullshit-free relationship. At least, that’s what Nick had believed.

  “Not least of all my client.” Jillian’s pointed remark jolted him from wallowing in his anger. He whipped his head around to look at her, wondering if this was a joke. “In fact, from my perspective, Nick is the only one to gain from this trade. He’s been screwed over by the management and coaches of a team he’s dedicated himself to for the last nine years, and right now Utah is offering him a hell of a lot of money to treat him like a king.”

  Tyson squirmed. “I apologize for the mix-up with your hotel room in Chicago, but I swear that was an honest mistake by the new assistant team manager. It wasn’t a malicious act.”

  At least Tyson had the decency to look him in the eye, which meant it probably wasn’t bullshit.

  “Apology noted,” Jillian continued coolly. “But what I can’t figure out is why anyone in the Vipers management would see this as a good deal. We all know my client isn’t likely to be wearing a New York jersey come next season.”

  Nick tensed, ready to walk out of the room in protest, but Jillian gave him the subtlest shake of the head. His muscles didn’t uncoil, but some of his frustration dissipated. No matter how much his brain told him she knew what she was doing, it was hard for him to accept in the moment.

  “Most midseason trades happen because a team is trying to stack its deck leading up to a Cup run. We know that’s not what Utah is doing. They’re trying to snatch him up before any other team has a chance to make a move. If the Vipers trade him now, you’ll be stuck paying out half his salary, which is almost as much as you’re paying him now. Defensemen of his caliber with the ability to contribute offensively are a rare commodity right now, and with the way Nick’s been playing, his market value is only going to go up by the end of the year. It would be a financial disaster to trade him now, when you could make a killing at the end of the season. In other words, Utah is playing you for a fool.”

  Tyson clasped his hands together, holding her gaze. Jillian was a ballsy negotiator, but the Vipers’ GM had been doing this for a long time. “That’s a possibility.”

  Jillian crossed her legs and leaned forward. “Then why even consider it? Your team needs leadership more than ever right now, and Nick is one of the few providing that. The only explanation that makes sense is that you’re caving to pressure from the owner because his daughter wants to protect her new fiancé.”

  That jab earned her a stone-faced glare.

  Jillian shrugged. “I would’ve thought you’d have more dignity than to sink your team’s prospects and finances because of the whims of a twenty-year-old socialite.”

  “Between you and me, none of this is right. I know that. Liakos is a problem. But losing him would be even more costly right now. I’m in a bind and I have to go with the future, not the past.”

  “Then we’ll accept the trade,” Jillian said as Nick’s heart jumped into his throat. “If you throw in a five-million-dollar bonus for waiving the clause.”

  Tyson let out a slow exhalation. Even Nick felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Jillian wasn’t holding back at all, going straight for the jugular. It was almost scary to watch.

  Jillian rose to her feet. “Take some time to think about it.”

  She glided her fingers along Nick’s shoulder as she strode out of the room. He stood up, shook Tyson’s hand, and followed her out the door, not sure at all what had just happened.

  “You’ve been awfully quiet,” Jillian said as they walked up to her second-story apartment.

  “Not much to say after that meeting.”

  Maybe not with words, but the tension radiating from his body was telling. Whether it was from the meeting or the fact that they hadn’t seen each other since waking up in a hotel room two weeks ago after an incredible but reckless night together, she wasn’t sure. “My negotiation strategies bother you.”

  Business was the easier subject to start with. Safer. She pulled her keys from her purse when they reached her door and looked up at him, waiting for an answer.

  He nodded. “I still don’t understand why there has to be so much subterfuge and manipulation. If everyone said what they meant, it’d be a hell of a lot easier.”

  A shiver ran down her spine. From the hard look in his eyes, she wasn’t sure they were talking about business after all. Then again, for a guy like Nick, it probably didn’t matter. He was guided by loyalty, even if it came at his own expense. He didn’t separate his life and work into tidy little categories.

  He was making it hard for her to be able to do the same.

  It was difficult to be this close to him without remembering the way he’d set her skin on fire and made her cry out in ecstasy. Impossible to look at the stubble growing back in along his jaw without wanting to step between his long legs. Crossing those lines with him felt as wrong as it did right. She’d needed some distance afterward to clear her head, but she was no closer to having any kind of strategy. Any kind of answer. All she knew was that she still wanted him. “That only works if everyone plays fair.”

  “I guess some people have a harder time with that than others.”

  His hand was at her lower back as she pushed the door open. A gentlemanly touch that implied familiarity and comfort but made her desire spike. She shut the door and slid a hand behind his neck, tugging him down so her lips could reach his. She poured every ounce of need she couldn’t articulate with words into the kiss, pulling at his zipper to get his jacket off so she could run her hands along his body. He reacted just as strongly, taking over the kiss and stinging her lips with his demanding mouth.

  The way he commanded her with just his touch turned her on so much, she could barely think straight. She didn’t want to just be taken. Not when the big, broad, muscled body she’d been fantasizing about for years was at her fingertips. She needed to take. Her greedy hands sli
d inside his shirt, palms running along the defined ridges of his abs.

  He bit her lower lip, making her fingers curl and scratch his skin with her nails. He stroked her arms from wrists to shoulders, then pushed her gently away.

  She looked up at him in a daze.

  The corners of his lips quirked into a wry grin. “We should order pizza.”

  “But—”

  “But we’ve got all night, and I’m hungry. And I want to see your place.”

  “Oh, right.” She let out a nervous laugh. “There’s not much to see. Just your basic overpriced New York City condo.”

  The invitation to her place was meant to be a way to let him in a little closer. Make a real effort after practically ignoring him for two weeks. But now that he was here, she stood frozen in her living room wondering if he would think less of her. Like her office, her one-bedroom condo was functional but didn’t reflect the image she’d crafted for herself. The builder’s-beige walls and hand-me-down furniture from her mom represented Jillian Nichols the half-baked adult, not Jillian Nichols the successful agent. She wanted Nick to know her as a real person. But there was so much money tossed around in this industry, and letting on that she wasn’t hugely successful after five years of running her own agency was a bad business move. Would he doubt her ability to advocate for him?

  “I like the art.” He pointed to a pair of framed black-and-white prints on the wall. “They’re very sophisticated. Like you.”

  It didn’t matter if it was an honest compliment or not. She appreciated that he zeroed in on the one thing she treasured in the small space. “I love photography. I bought these from a local art fair in Boston with the paycheck from negotiating my first client’s contract.”

  “It’s nice.” He settled his hand along the crook of her neck. She closed her eyes and dropped her head backward, melting into his touch. A rumbling sound vibrated from his belly, so loud, she jumped away from him. “Sorry, I’m hungrier than I thought.”