Icebreaker

by Deirdre Martin

  Sinead tried to ignore the little voice in her head saying, He does like me! But the voice abruptly shut up when Adam, still smiling, said, “As your client, I forbid you to use the info that I’m helping Rick.”

  Sinead was taken aback. “You forbid me?”

  “You can use the rink, if you have to. I think that’s enough.”

  “And I think that if your case goes to court, the fact that you value family can only help,” Sinead countered.

  “You’re being insensitive.”

  Sinead cocked her head, surprised. “How so?”

  “Rick is a proud man. Think how he’s going to feel when it gets out that his little brother is helping him out financially. He’ll never forgive me. Our relationship is already rocky. You use that, and I’ll lose him.”

  “I didn’t think about that,” Sinead admitted. “All right. I’ll leave it out. For now.”

  “Thank you,” Adam said, looking relieved. “I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  For the first time since they’d “chatted” at her family’s bar, Sinead felt like he was letting down his guard just a bit.

  Adam was staring at her quizzically. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Depends on what the question is, Mr. Perry.” Shit, did that sound flirty? She hoped it didn’t.

  “Do I get any say in the info you intend to use for my case? Because as you may have deduced by now, I may not want you to reveal certain things.”

  “Even if they’re things that could keep you out of jail? Or help insure your career doesn’t end?” Sinead leaned toward him. “I know what I’m doing, Adam,” she reiterated, hoping to reassure him. “I assume Ray called you after I left.”

  Adam snorted. “Of course he did.”

  “You look resentful.”

  “Picking up on that, are you?”

  Sinead bristled. “No need to be sarcastic. In my defense, let me start by pointing out that Ray could have turned me down when I asked to talk to him. So if you’re angry, be angry at him.”

  “I am. Actually, pissed off would be more accurate.”

  Sinead wanted to knock on the side of Adam’s head to see if it was hollow. He was being deliberately difficult. “Don’t you understand how significant it is that he spoke with me, even though he knew you wouldn’t like it? That says something.”

  “Really? What does it say?”

  “It says he loves you. He doesn’t want to see you get into legal trouble.”

  Adam shrugged. “That doesn’t make me any less pissed off at him.”

  “You want to talk about pissed off?” Sinead returned, trying to keep her temper in check. “I’m pissed at you. I asked you back in the beginning if there were any skeletons in your closet, and you said no. Sorry, Adam, but paralyzing your best friend is a pretty big skeleton.”

  “It’s no one’s business,” Adam maintained stubbornly.

  Sinead suppressed a growl of frustration. “It’s my business.” She paused. “Ray told me everything,” she said quietly.

  Adam tensed. “What does that mean?”

  “How you wanted to stop playing after the accident, because you thought it wasn’t fair you’d be the only one doing what you both dreamed of doing. He said you contemplated changing your style of play, but he talked you out of it.” She held his angry gaze. “He even told me how you help him out.”

  Adam glared at her. “All of that stays between Ray and me, okay?”

  “He was helping me get a better handle on who you are, Adam.”

  “I’m the brutal bastard who paralyzed him,” Adam snapped. “What else is there to know?”

  Sinead was taken aback by his self-loathing.

  “He doesn’t hold it against you. You know that.”

  “He’s a saint. If it were me, I’d hold it against him, believe me.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “Oh really?” Adam looked scornful. “Tell me more about myself, Counselor.”

  “I found out a lot about you this weekend, Adam.” Sinead edged a few inches toward him, affected by how distressed he looked. The urge to comfort him was strong. “I found out you’re generous. And loyal.” Sinead paused thoughtfully. “You know, no one I’ve interviewed has had one bad thing to say about you.”

  “I’m sure you could find a few if you kept digging.”

  “I’m sure, but the point is, people think you’re a great guy. What Ray said about the incident—that you were just doing your job, that it could happen to any player at any time—is the foundation of our argument. The fact that he’s your best friend and holds no malice toward you is huge.”

  Adam looked disturbed. “Please don’t tell me you want to put Ray up on the stand.”

  “If a jury heard about all you do for him—”

  “They’ll think I’m just trying to assuage my guilt,” Adam finished for her bitterly. “And they’d be right.”

  Sinead moved close enough to put a tentative hand on his knee. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you,” she said sympathetically. “What it still must be like for you.”

  “Screw what it’s like for me! Think about what it’s like for him.” Adam scrubbed his hands over his face. He looked exhausted, and the day hadn’t even begun.

  “Ray said it turned you into a loner.”

  “Look,” Adam said sharply. “I refuse to go through that again. Keeping a distance is fine by me.”

  “And what about people who don’t play hockey? Do you ever get close to them?”

  Adam looked skeptical. “Do you get close to people outside of work?”

  Sinead was momentarily caught off guard. “Uh, my family—”

  “Doesn’t count. Do you have any friends?”

  “I’m very close to Oliver,” Sinead retorted.

  “Doesn’t count. He’s your colleague.”

  “It counts,” Sinead insisted. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Turnabout’s fair play, as I told you that night we were at your parents’ pub. I give you personal info, you give me personal info.”

  “We’ve already exchanged information.”

  “Well, I want more.”

  Sinead licked her lips nervously. The conversation had veered off Professional Avenue and was now driving slowly down Personal Info Lane. Which was okay, if it helped draw Adam out, or so she told herself. “Like you, I’m very private. The more someone knows about me, the more vulnerable I feel, and I don’t like feeling vulnerable. I’m a control freak.

  “I can relate to your trying to avoid personal ties,” Sinead continued. “My divorce was a very drawn-out, painful affair. It made me very apprehensive about getting involved in something that could cause me deep personal pain.”

  “That’s why you stick to Oliver.”

  “Yes.”

  “By deep personal pain, I assume you’re talking about a relationship.”

  Sinead felt uncomfortable. “Yes.”

  “Don’t you ever get lonely?” Before she could balk, she realized she had asked him the same question, and he was now firing it back at her.

  “Don’t you?”

  Adam looked stoic. “Sometimes. But that’s the trade-off I had to make.”

  “You chose to make. With hockey players. I don’t see why you have to be walled off from other people.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Adam looked amused. “Ray told me you were annoyed I’d described you as uptight and prissy.”

  “Ray told me you said I was good-looking.”

  “You are,” Adam said bluntly.

  Sinead’s face felt hot. “Well, thank you,” she murmured.

  Sinead tried to ignore the quiet hum of sexual tension building in the room.

  “We appear not to be discussing my case anymore,” Adam noted, his gaze so direct it was unnerving.

  “Yes,” Sinead agreed, looking down at her lap.

  The tension climbed as Adam leaned
over and put his index finger beneath her chin, tilting her face up so he could press his lips to her mouth. This is wrong, thought Sinead. But her body disagreed.

  She was shocked when he abruptly pulled away. “I’m sorry. That was completely inappropriate.”

  “It’s all right,” she assured him.

  “I’m not sure it is. It’s probably best we pretend that never happened.”

  Sinead nodded in agreement, even though she didn’t know which side was up right now.

  Adam stood up. “I should go.”

  Sinead couldn’t believe how cool and collected he looked. She wondered if inside, his brain and heart were sparring the way hers were.

  “Are we done here?” he asked.

  “Yes. I mean, for now.” Sinead forced herself back into professional mode. “If you can think of any other information that would help your case, tell me.”

  “I will. I can find my way out.”

  “All right. Bye now, Adam.”

  “Bye.”

  It seemed to take him forever to close the door. Sinead sat there, trying—and failing—to tease apart the tangled threads of her emotions. A line had been crossed, one that shouldn’t have been. But did he really think she could pretend it never happened? Would he be able to forget?

  She had to find out.

  10

  “Go for it.”

  That was Anthony’s advice after Adam told him about what had happened between him and Sinead. They were in Anthony’s living room, and Anthony had just trounced Adam in a game of Wii tennis. “You only won because I’m distracted, pal,” said Adam. When Anthony asked him about what, Adam spilled.

  “That’s your answer?” Adam asked, mopping sweat off his face.

  “Yeah. What other answer is there? You kissed her. She let you. Obviously there’s something there.”

  Adam grimaced. “Thing is, I told her we should probably pretend it never happened.”

  “That is cold, bro.”

  “I know. And it’s hypocritical. Because I sure as hell can’t forget it happened.”

  “Then ask her out.”

  “She’s my attorney.”

  “Yeah, we’ve established that, Einstein. So what? What’s the worst that can happen? You find out you’re not compatible?”

  “It could damage her career. Plus we’d still have to see each other if we broke up before the case was settled. It would be awkward.”

  “Oh, boo-hoo,” Anthony mocked, tossing a handful of peanuts down his throat. “Like that type of thing doesn’t happen all the time. Jesus, Mary, and Saint Joseph—you’re adults.”

  Adam plucked thoughtfully on his lower lip. “True.”

  “Look, man, you said she’s smart, good-looking . . .”

  “But she’s also a little intense.”

  “Perfect for you! For your first date, you guys could have a competition, you know? Sit around and see who’s more intense.”

  “Fuck off, Anthony.”

  Anthony threw a shot of water down his throat. “Just ask her out for a drink or something, Adam. If you can’t do it flat out because you’re too much of a coward, then we can do a double date: me and Vivi, and you and Sinead. Tell her it’s to prove that you do have friends who aren’t hockey players.”

  “Right.” Why hadn’t he thought of that?

  “There you go, then. Anything else, moron?”

  “Where would we go?”

  “You leave that to your buddy here, pally,” Anthony said enigmatically. “Trust me: a good time will be had by all.”

  “Okay. I put this in your hands, though I don’t know why.” He rotated his wrists, loosening them up. “You find out about that Stooges convention in L.A. in July?”

  “I’m still waiting on info. But we are so there.”

  “Damn straight.”

  A Stooges convention. What would Sinead think of that? Then again, she liked jazz. Who likes jazz, for chrissakes? He had her there.

  “We still on for Wednesday at my place?” Adam continued, lobbing an imaginary tennis ball against the wall. “Pizza and the second series of the show?”

  “Yeah.” Anthony frowned. “Mikey wants in.”

  “No prob.”

  “Forget it. He’s not worthy. Plus, I want to torture him by not letting him come.”

  “As long as you make it clear to him that I don’t share your feelings, knock yourself out.”

  “No problemo,” said Anthony.

  Anthony was right, Adam decided: a double date would prove to Sinead that he was capable of getting close to people. He was going for it. Let the chips fall where they may.

  11

  “Oh. A karaoke bar. I had no idea.”

  Adam smiled weakly as he ushered Sinead into Wally’s, a karaoke bar on East Fifty-fourth Street. He’d always wanted to try karaoke but was too shy and far too uptight to risk making an ass of himself. The last thing he needed was Sinead mocking him. He’d leave the singing to Ant and Vivi.

  Sinead sounded surprised when he told her he was going to prove he had friends outside the world of hockey. He made sure his invitation carried a hint of a challenge, which was why he wasn’t surprised when she agreed to come out with him. Never in a million years did he imagine they were going to a karaoke bar.

  They were greeted at the door by a smiling Asian maître d’ to whom Anthony had given his name. Adam squinted down a dimly lit, bricked hallway. He assumed Anthony had arranged for one of the private karaoke rooms, and started toward the back. The maître d’ stopped him. “Your friend is over there,” he said, pointing to Anthony and Vivi, sitting at a small table in the densely packed bar.

  Adam pressed his lips together grimly. “Right.”

  He scoped out the room: speakers in each corner, as well as the massive high-def TV at the back of the tiny stage. There was also a TV along one side of the stage where, Adam supposed, each “singer” could read the words of the songs they selected. Right now, a tipsy bleach blonde was singing Celine Dion’s “I Will Always Love You.” No one was laughing at her. In fact, the crowd was whistling and clapping, cheering her on. Momentary insanity gripped Adam as he thought, Maybe I’ll get up there for just one song.

  Adam felt sheepish as he glanced at Sinead, dressed casually in jeans and red scoop neck, looking fantastically sexy. “Sorry about this.”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” Sinead assured him quickly. She tore her eyes from the stage to look at him. “Really.”

  A big grin bisected Anthony’s face as Adam and Sinead approached. “Welcome.” Standing, he gestured at the walls covered in pale yellow wallpaper topped by a lime green bamboo pattern. “It doesn’t get better than this, right?” Anthony’s big, goofy grin returned as he turned to Sinead.

  “Hello. I’m Anthony, Adam’s non-hockey playing friend.”

  Sinead laughed quietly. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.”

  Vivi rose. “I’m Vivi, Anthony’s wife.” She leaned over to kiss Sinead on both cheeks in the traditional French way of greeting, squeezing her hand.

  Anthony clapped his hands together. “Why don’t we have a few drinks, order some food, and then—sing!”

  “Great idea,” Adam said queasily. Drinks were fine. But there was no way he was going to get up onstage.

  Sinead glanced around the room nervously. Adam and Anthony had gone to get drinks, leaving her with Vivi, whose sweetness was apparent from the get-go.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” she said.

  Sinead furrowed her brows. “Why?”

  “Because my husband is an idiot. When Anthony told me we were all coming here, I said, ‘That’s no place to go for a first date; it will scare her away from Adam.’ But oh! That stubborn ox wouldn’t listen.”

  “Actually, it’s not a date. Adam just wanted to prove to me he has friends who don’t play hockey.”

  “Oh.” Vivi looked surprised. “Anthony said it was a date.”

  “Adam and I are just friends.”r />
  “Ah. So you haven’t had The Three Stooges inflicted on you yet.”

  “No, thank God.”

  Vivi shuddered. “Well, I hope you never do. It’s sheer idiocy.”

  “I know. My brothers used to watch it.”

  “Hitting, punching, poking at each other’s eyes—who would enjoy such a thing?” Vivi asked disdainfully.

  “I agree completely.”

  Another singer took the stage, a short, raven-haired man of about thirty who launched into an exuberant version of “La Vida Loca,” complete with dance moves. Vivi looked at Sinead, shaking her head. “Some people are very good, some . . . not so much.”

  “Have you ever done karaoke?” Sinead asked shyly.

  Vivi’s face lit up. “Of course! I love it! It’s a wonderful way to unwind.”

  “I’ve always wanted to try it, but I’m too afraid of embarrassing myself.”

  “Don’t be silly. No one cares.”

  “Even so, I don’t think I can.” Especially not in front of Adam. Oh, God. His laughter would be so loud it would puncture her eardrums. The thought was unendurable.

  “Perhaps Adam will.”

  Sinead tried to imagine Adam up there singing. She couldn’t, although it was a sight she’d love to see. The potential to tease him would make it worth it.

  “ ‘When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore . . .’ ”

  “That’s Amore.” It figures, Adam thought, watching his friend perform onstage. Italian this, Italian that . . . still, he did seem to be having a good time, though God knows Dean Martin had to be spinning in his grave.

  Sinead leaned over to him. “He’s not bad.”

  “No, he’s okay,” Adam tepidly agreed.

  “When are you going up?” Sinead murmured.

  “I’m not. When are you?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Why not?” Adam asked.

  “Why aren’t you?” Sinead lobbed back.

  “I asked you first.”

  Sinead looked flustered. “This is silly.”

  “I agree.”

  Sinead sipped her drink. “But really, why aren’t you going up?”

  Adam looked caught. “I have stage fright.”