Читать книгу Power Play - Anna DePalo - Страница 13

Three

“Guess what?”

Sera regarded her older brother, Dante, with a wary eye. There’d been many guess whats in their lives. Guess what? I brought your hamster in for show-and-tell... Guess what? I’m dating your volleyball teammate... Guess what? You’re getting your own car—my old wreck. She loved her brother, but sometimes it was hard to like him.

This time, they were at Dory’s Café in downtown Welsdale, and she had some major armor against an unwelcome surprise. Namely, she was sitting down, already fortified by morning coffee ahead of brunch. And Dante was lucky—there was a table between them, so she couldn’t kick him in the shins as she might have done when she was six—not that she was above trying if things got out of hand.

“Okay,” she mustered, “I give up. What is it? Winning lottery numbers? One-way ticket to Mars? What?” She stuck out her chin and waited.

“Nothing so dramatic, sport.” Dante chuckled. “New job.”

Sera breathed a sigh of relief. “Congrats. That makes two of us in less than three years. Mom will be doing the happy dance.” Frankly, her mother could use good news. Rosana Perini was still putting the pieces of her life back together—rearranging the puzzle that had broken and scattered when she’d become a young widow. The whole family had needed to regroup when Joseph Perini had died six years ago when Sera was twenty-three. It was one of the things that had made Sera decide to start a new chapter in her life by going back to school for her physical-therapy degree.

“You’re looking at the new VP of Marketing for the New England Razors.”

Sera’s stomach plummeted as she was jerked back to the present. No, no and no. Dante’s working for the New England Razors meant only one thing: another connection to Jordan Serenghetti. Still, she managed to cough up the critical word. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Sera. It’s my dream job.”

Her brother had always been a sports nut. His teenage bedroom had been decorated with soccer, football and hockey memorabilia. No wonder someone had thought he was perfect for the Razors marketing position.

A dream come true for Dante. A nightmare for her. She didn’t need her life further entangled with Jordan Serenghetti’s. Her brother would be offering up free game tickets and suggesting a family evening out. Or talking nonstop about Jordan Serenghetti’s prowess—on and off the ice.

Dante, though, appeared oblivious to her discomfort. “I wonder if Marisa can grease the wheels for me with Jordan Serenghetti. You know, maybe invite us both to a family barbecue at her house again soon.” Her brother shrugged. “Making sure that Jordan and the Razors are happy with each other is part of my new job description.”

“She doesn’t need to,” Sera managed to get out, volunteering the information because Dante would find out eventually anyway. “I’m seeing Jordan myself.”

Dante’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, yeah?”

“Jordan is my new client at Astra Therapeutics. The Razors are farming out some of their physical rehab, and Jordan is their guinea pig.”

A grin split her brother’s face. “You mean your guinea pig.”

Sera tossed her hair. “Hey, I’m a professional.”

“Then why do you eye him at family gatherings as if he’s the first case of the plague in five hundred years?”

“Professional distance.”

Dante snorted. “I’ll buy that as fast as a counterfeit trading card on an online auction site.”

“Whatever. I’m giving him the boot to another therapist in the office.”

“Why?”

“You just said it yourself. We don’t get along.”

“What about family loyalty?”

“To Jordan Serenghetti? He’s only a cousin-in-law.” As if she could forget.

“Jordan could end up owing you a debt of gratitude for getting him back on his feet.”

Just then, the waitress arrived with their food—a lumberjack breakfast of eggs, sausage and toast for Dante, and an egg-white omelet for her. Sera liked to practice what she preached to her clients—healthy eating and clean living. She also made sure to thank the waitress because she knew what it meant to be on your feet for hours.

Her brother took his first bite and then tilted his head and studied her. “You don’t like him because women fawn over him.”

“I hadn’t noticed, and anyway it’s none of my business.” She gave all her concentration to seasoning her food with the pepper mill.

“You shouldn’t let one bad experience with what’s-his-name Neil sour you.”

True...if she could trust her instincts. But she still wasn’t sure her radar was working right. And Dante had no clue that she and Jordan had shared more than casual conversation in the past. Not that she wanted her brother to ever find out. It was bad enough he knew the basics of her drama with Neil.

Dante waved his fork as he swallowed his food. “You should at least tell Jordan that your attitude isn’t personal.”

“Never...and you’re not going to, either.” Because it was personal—and wasn’t just about her unsavory experience with Neil.

“Okay, play it your way, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

She shrugged. “Mine to make.”

“Ser,” Dante said, suddenly looking earnest, “I could use your help.”

“Wow, this is a change.”

“I’m serious. I need Jordan back on the ice, and the sooner the better. It would make a great start to my new job if I could claim some credit. Or at least if I could say my sister—the physical therapist with the golden touch—helped get him back in shape.”

Sera made a face. “Ugh, Dante. That’s asking a lot.”

Dante cleared his throat. “I got the position with the Razors...but there’s already a higher-up who is gunning for me.” He shrugged. “We have some bad history together at a prior employer, and I’m sure he’d be happy if I screwed up.”

Sera sighed. “What kind of bad history?”

Her brother looked sheepish. “We were in competition at a sports agency...and there might have been a woman involved, too.”

Great. She took a bite of her omelet. She could just imagine her brother involved in a love triangle. Almost. She didn’t want any more details.

“Fans come to see Jordan in action,” Dante cajoled.

“Whatever.” From what she could tell, Jordan was still in fantastic shape despite his injury, and she didn’t care how much money he had on the table. The guy had major bank already—what was a few million, more or less, to him?

“Sera, I’m asking.”

Sera shifted in her seat. Because, for once, the tables were turned. Her brother needed her help—unlike when he’d stepped in to bail her out when they were younger. Sure, he’d been a thorn in her side with his antics—keeping her on edge—but he’d also cast a protective mantle. Unlike her, Dante remembered the child their parents had lost at birth, and it was almost like he’d absorbed their unspoken worries about losing another loved one. So, he’d issued warnings about situations to avoid at school, stood up for her when she’d been picked on as a kid and, yes, kept some of her secrets from their parents.

On the other hand, Jordan threatened the safe and tidy world that she’d worked hard to build for herself. She knew just how potent his kisses could be, and she was nobody’s fool. Not anymore. If she stepped up for Dante, she’d be walking a fine line...

* * *

Sera folded her arms as she stepped into the examining room. “So you’re stuck with me.”

Jordan was leaning against the treatment table, crutches propped up next to him. He was billboard-ready good-looking even under the fluorescent lights of the room. She, on the other hand, was in her usual shapeless scrubs. Clearly, if he didn’t enjoy toying with her, she’d be beneath his notice—which ran to models, actresses and reality stars these days, if his press was to be believed.

Jordan’s expression turned to one of surprise, and then he gave his trademark insouciant grin. “I’m stuck with you? And here I thought the best part of the day was getting to sample your cannoli bruschetta mash-up recipe along with the rest of the staff. It was delicious, by the way.”

“Well, you were wrong,” she deadpanned. Why did she feel a thrill at his compliment?

“What prompted the change of heart? Don’t keep me waiting. This is the most suspense I’ve had in ages.”

“I’m sure it’s a rare occurrence for a woman to keep you cooling your heels.”

Jordan’s smile widened. “What do you think?”

She ignored the question and gritted her teeth instead. Best to get this over with. “My brother, Dante, just got a job with the Razors. Marketing VP, to be exact.”

Jordan raised his eyebrows and then his lips quirked. “You Perinis can’t seem to stay away from professional hockey players.”

She gave him a frosty smile. “Let me remind you that I was initially recruited for this job. I didn’t volunteer.”

“The end result is the same.”

“Now I’m helping out Dante by getting you back on your feet.”

“Of course.”

Well, that was easy.

“Do I get anything in return for helping you out?”

Sera narrowed her eyes. She’d spoken too soon. This was more like the Jordan Serenghetti she expected. “Don’t be evil. The chance to spread some beneficence should be good enough for you.”

Jordan laughed, looking not the least bit insulted. “Now I understand why you showed up for my appointment today as scheduled—instead of, you know, feigning typhoid or something.”

“Count your blessings.”

“So you’re going to agree to be my physical therapist, and here I was about to let you off the hook.”

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“The silver lining is that I get to make you sweat.”

“Some people pay to see that, you know.”

Of course she knew Jordan got paid millions for his skills on the ice. Still... “Don’t you ever stop?”

“Not when it’s this much fun.”

“Well then, I guess it’s time for me to stop making it so enjoyable for you.”

“You know, I really was going to let you off the hook today.” Jordan shrugged. “Cole came to see me because you were adamant about not being my therapist. Obviously, you’ve had a change of heart.”

Now she looked like an opportunist. She didn’t know that Marisa had followed through and told Cole to have a talk with Jordan. “Why didn’t you cancel your appointment? Or ask for someone else before your scheduled time?”

“I didn’t want you to look bad at the office. I figured it would be better if the word came from you.”

Sera lowered her shoulders. She felt bad—guilty... Damn him. She was only trying to help her brother!

Jordan just stood there, being himself—all sexy. Badass abs and chiseled pecs under a formfitting T-shirt, square jaw, magnetic green eyes and all.

Sera gritted her teeth again. She could do this. She...owed him. “Thanks.”

He cupped his hand to his ear. “What was that?”

And just like that, they were back to squabbling. She knew she was rising to the bait, but she couldn’t help herself. “Thank you...for giving me the opportunity to see you grunt and sweat.”

Jordan laughed but then started leveraging himself onto the treatment table. “Ready when you are.”

She moved aside his crutches and then helped him stretch his legs before him. When he was settled, she examined his knee. After a few moments of poking and prodding, she had to admit he was coming along nicely. “The swelling is about as good as we can expect at this stage.”

“So I heal well?”

She looked up. “You’re a professional athlete at the top of your game. It’s not surprising.” When he looked pleased, she added, “Today we’re going to focus on increasing mobility and improving your quad function even more.”

“Sounds...fun,” he remarked drily. “You know, it’s amazing we didn’t know each other in high school. You lost some opportunities to kick my butt.”

“Amazing isn’t the word I’d use.” More like a relief. Her teenage self could have gotten into big trouble with Jordan. As it was...but she was older and wiser now.

“Marisa mentioned you grew up in East Gannon. Right next door.”

“And yet a world away.” East Gannon was Welsdale’s poor cousin. People had small clapboard homes, not mansions with expensive landscaping.

Jordan looked thoughtful. “Welsdale High played East Gannon plenty of times.”

“I didn’t pay much attention to hockey in high school. I left that stuff to Dante.”

Jordan’s expression registered surprise. “And you call yourself a New Englander?”

She stuck out her chin. “I played volleyball.”

Jordan’s eyes gleamed. “An athlete. I knew there must be something we had in common.”

Sera stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

“And you also box to stay in shape, from what I understand,” he murmured. “So two things we have in common.”

“I doubt there are three,” she countered, and he just laughed.

She could get used to the way his eyes crinkled and amusement took over his entire face.

“You went to Welsdale High?” she added quickly. “I figured you’d gone to a fancy place like Pershing School along with Cole.”

Cole Serenghetti had been a star hockey player at the Pershing School. It was where he’d met Marisa, who’d attended on scholarship. They’d had a teenage romance until Marisa had played a part in Cole’s suspension. Then they’d led separate lives for fifteen years until fate and a Pershing School fund-raiser had brought them together again.

“Serenghetti Construction wasn’t doing well during a recession, so I decided to take the financial burden off my parents by switching to Welsdale High for my junior year.”

“Oh.” She tried to reconcile the information with what she knew of Jordan Serenghetti. Self-sacrificing wasn’t a word that she’d have associated with him. And she didn’t want a reason to like him.

Jordan gave her a cocky grin. “I had an excellent run at Welsdale High School. You missed it all.”

“No regrets.” Then, giving in to curiosity, she asked, “Do you ever wish you’d gone to Pershing School?”

“Nope. Welsdale High had just as good a hockey team, and we were the champs twice while I was there.”

This time, Sera did roll her eyes. “No doubt you think it was due to the fact you were on the team.”

Jordan smiled. “Actually, I was a lowly freshman for the first win.”

She shrugged. “Maybe you thought Pershing School was second-best to Welsdale. After all, the suspension that Marisa earned Cole meant that Pershing hadn’t won a championship in a while.”

Jordan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I don’t blame Marisa. She had her arm twisted by the fates.” He gave her a cheeky look. “And no, I didn’t transfer because I thought Welsdale High had a better hockey team. I figured whichever side I played on would have the superior team.”

“So I was right, after all. You claim all the credit.”

Jordan relaxed his teasing expression. “As I said, since the two teams were about equal, I decided to do my parents a favor by saving on tuition. But I let them believe that the hockey team was the reason for my switching schools.”

Sera got serious, too. “Well, it was a nice thing to do. Apparently, you do have a pleasant side...occasionally.”

He angled his head. “Want to help me brush up on my manners?”

“I’m not a teacher, and something tells me you’d be a poor student. But actually, right now I have something to show you.”

He perked up.

“Heel slides,” she said succinctly, all business. “The first exercise for your knee.”

“Oh.”

She guided him in a demonstration of sliding the heel of his foot along the treatment table, extending his knee for twenty seconds. After that, as he reclined on the table, he did repetitions by himself while grasping a belt that was anchored with the heel of his foot.

“Great,” she said encouragingly. “This should improve your quad function.”

He grunted as he continued, until she felt he’d done enough.

She took the belt from him and put it aside on the counter. “Now I’m going to teach you something you can do at home by yourself.”

He arched a brow, and she gave him a stern look even as she felt heat rise to her face.

“Great,” he managed. “I suppose I should be glad that there are no paparazzi around, angling for a picture of me on crutches.”

“Exactly.” Putting her index finger at the location of one his incisions, she moved her finger back and forth, her touch smooth but firm. “This scar massage is to reduce inflammation. You should continue to do this daily.” She started a circular motion. “You can also vary the direction.”

Sera kept her gaze focused on his knee, and Jordan was quiet for a change—watching her.

“So I have a question,” he finally said, his tone conversational. “Have any of your clients flirted with you? Before me?”

“We haven’t flirted. Well, you have, but it takes two to tango.” With an impersonal touch, she placed his hand where hers had been on his knee. “Now you try.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, imitating her motion. “Okay, what about before me?”

She covered his hand to guide him a bit, ignoring the sudden awareness that came from touching him again. “Some have tried, none have succeeded.”

“Wow, a challenge.”

“You would see it that way. But nope, a futile endeavor is more like it.”

He looked up. “Throwing down the gauntlet.”

She met his gaze. “You’re too incapacitated to bend low enough to pick it up.”

“But not for long,” he replied with a wicked glint.

“Now we’re going to try the stationary bike,” she announced, ignoring him.

Jordan raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to be biking already?”

“Your good leg will be doing all the work.” She was relieved they were moving to the wide-open gym. Verbally tangling with Jordan Serenghetti while they were alone was like walking a tightrope—it took all her focus, and she needed a break.

He followed her over to the gym on his crutches, and she helped as he gingerly got on the bike.

Because he exuded so much charisma, Sera could almost forget Jordan was injured. She refocused her attention and instructed him in what to do.

He slowly pedaled backward and forward with his right leg, his left knee bending and straightening in response.

“How’s the pain?” she asked.

He bared his teeth. “I’ve had worse in training sessions with the Razors.”

“Good. You want to push but not too hard.”

“Right.”

She watched him for a few more minutes until she was satisfied with his effort. “Good job.”

“Effusive praise from you,” he teased.

“We’re not done yet,” she parried.

After several more minutes, they returned to the treatment room, where she instructed him on how to do straight-leg raises while resting on his back. She followed this up with having him do raises from the hip while he was lying on his side. Then she helped him sit up to do short arc quads, raising his leg from the knee.

As he was finishing up his last exercise, she glanced at the clock and realized with some surprise that their time was up.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and exhaled. “Okay, that’s it for today.”

He raised his brows. “I’m done?”

She nodded. “You’re making excellent progress. You’ve gained some more motion in your knee since the surgery, and that’s what we’re going to continue to work on.”

He smiled. Not mocking, not teasing, just genuine, and Sera blinked.

“Glad things are working out,” he said.

That made two of them. For her peace of mind, Jordan couldn’t get well fast enough.