Читать книгу A Perfect Strategy - Anna Sugden - Страница 13
ОглавлениеSCOTT AWOKE TO bright sunshine, the smell of coffee and the clacking of computer keys. He ran his hand over the sheet beside him.
Cold.
The bed had been empty for a while. He squinted at the clock and almost did a double take. He never slept this late. Then again, given how little actual sleeping he’d done over the past thirty-six hours, it wasn’t really surprising.
What an incredible weekend. He and Sapphie had barely left the bed, except to sit on the balcony in the moonlight, sipping champagne and nibbling on snacks. And each other. They’d ordered room service whenever they’d needed sustenance, creating impromptu picnics, which had invariably ended with them burning off the calories they’d just eaten.
Scott grinned and rolled onto his back, propped himself on a pillow that still smelled of Sapphie and laced his fingers behind his head.
Their lovemaking had been out of this world. He’d never responded to a woman as he had to her. For the first time in a long while he felt alive and invigorated. Optimistic. Ready to take on the world.
For a moment, he was a little embarrassed. He was in his forties, with grown kids, not fourteen and sweaty palmed because the prettiest girl in the class had said hello to him.
He’d spent a lot of time since Sapphie approached him at the reception aware of his age and relative inexperience, conscious that he was finally getting around to doing things most people did when they were kids. Was he a cliché—lusting over a woman ten years younger than him?
Nah. He’d already had the fast car and he wasn’t into ear piercing or low-slung jeans that showed his underwear. If this was his midlife crisis, so what? His life had been turned completely upside down since he’d retired. Why shouldn’t he enjoy himself? More to the point, why shouldn’t he enjoy himself with Sapphie? They were both adults who were free and single.
Scott smiled indulgently when he saw her on the balcony, seated at the little round table, tapping away intently at her laptop. One foot was tucked under her. She seemed to be speaking with someone via her Bluetooth earpiece.
Her long blond hair was wet. He wished she’d woken him up so they could have shared the shower, like they had yesterday. Man, was he glad he’d retained his strength and stamina.
Sapphie wore a white short-sleeved blouse and tailored navy shorts, instead of the hotel’s robes that they’d lived in since entering her room.
A tiny chill whispered down the back of his neck.
He propped himself up on one elbow and looked around the room. The chill spread to his chest. The remnants of their late-night snacks had been cleared away. The candles they’d ordered from housekeeping tossed in the trash. The closet was empty and the surfaces clear. Her suitcase was packed. The dress was in a dry cleaner’s bag and draped over the case.
Other than the fact that he was lying in a rumpled bed, there was no sign of how they’d spent the weekend.
A memory of Celine, greeting him after his first commentating gig, her packed bags by the door, flashed through his mind.
He was about to toss the sheet aside and go to her, strangely needing the reassurance of touching her, when the door to the balcony slid open and Sapphie walked in, carrying her mug.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” She put her mug next to the coffeemaker, then approached and leaned over to kiss him. She tasted of coffee, with a hint of mint.
When she would have straightened, he caught her around the waist and tumbled her to the bed. “How about a proper good morning?”
Sapphie laughed and twined her arms around his neck. “Good morning.”
All too soon, she pulled out of his embrace and walked to the coffeemaker. “Would you like one?” She held up a mug.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“I held off ordering breakfast until you were awake. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” He scraped his hand over his stubbled jaw. “I guess I should get cleaned up and put some clothes on.”
“I’ll call room service and breakfast should be here when you’re done.”
Scott hid a frown. Their previously easy conversation had suddenly grown stilted. Awkward.
“Great.” He threw back the covers and grabbed a robe. He padded to the bathroom, mug in hand. Before he was halfway there, Sapphie’s phone rang. With an apologetic smile, she answered the call and headed back out to her laptop.
The bathroom looked bare without her toiletries. Nothing personal remained. Talk about a reality check.
He understood she was an independent woman, with a successful business that was incredibly demanding. Efficiency and organization would be critical. He got that she needed to get her head in the game after a break; he’d always been the same. And he appreciated the lack of fuss. He’d seen enough of clinging women from being around his single teammates.
But he’d expected...more. Some recognition that what they’d shared wasn’t just another wedding-reception hookup. Not that it had meant everything, but that it had at least meant something.
Scott toweled off and, because he didn’t have an alternative, dressed in his formal pants and white shirt. It felt weird to be wearing clothes again. He shook his head. Man, he had to get his brain in gear.
Sapphie was still on the phone when he came out of the bathroom. Breakfast was laid out on the table on the balcony. Her laptop was on the desk inside and she was typing quickly.
“All right, Marty. I’ve rearranged my other meeting. I’ve checked flights and I can be in LA late tonight, to see you tomorrow morning. I’ll do a quick turnaround in Chicago. But I’ll need to head there for Wednesday.” She laughed. “Just remember my angelic status when it comes to my next contract.”
She ended the call, then closed her laptop and slipped it into her briefcase.
The chill was back. “Sounds like you have a busy time ahead.”
Sapphie looked up at him, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I have to catch an earlier flight. Which means skipping out on breakfast.” As she spoke, she put her dress in the suitcase and zipped the bag closed. “I have the room until early afternoon, so you can stay and eat.”
Damn. Not how he’d expected their time together to end. “I should head home myself.”
She went to lift her case from the luggage stand, but he did it for her and set the bag by the door.
“Thanks.” Sapphie slung her purse over her shoulder, put her briefcase on top of her suitcase, then checked her watch. “It’s been a lovely weekend. I hate to rush off, but you know how it goes.”
“Yeah.” His tone was more reasonable than he felt, but he couldn’t match her smile. “Slow down.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “Have a safe trip and a successful meeting. I’ll see you when you return to Jersey.”
He went to kiss her, but she pecked him on the lips, then disentangled herself. Alarm bells started to ring.
“I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” she said airily. “It all depends on what my client’s important news is and how it affects me. Certainly my plans over the next few weeks don’t involve anything here.”
That definitely sounded like a brush-off. How was that possible after what they’d shared and done?
Obviously, she hadn’t found the experience as special as he had. Embarrassment twisted his stomach.
“Okay,” he said carefully. He felt like he was tiptoeing through a minefield.
“I can let you know when I’m next around, if you’d like. We could grab a drink or have dinner.” She picked up her cell. “Do I have your contact details?”
“Would you like them?” he said coolly.
“Sure.”
Her half shrug irritated him. He snapped out his cell number, like a soldier giving his serial number to an enemy interrogator.
She tapped it into her phone, then looked up at him, frowning. “Is there a problem?”
Scott tamped down his frustration. “I thought you enjoyed this weekend.”
“I did. It was wonderful. You were unbelievable.”
“Then why the brush-off?”
“Uh, I’m not sure what you mean.” She looked confused. “I’m busy for the next month and will be traveling a lot. This is me. This is what I do. What did you expect?”
“A little more enthusiasm for seeing me again.” Crap. He sounded like a whiny adolescent. “I thought we had something more than a roll in the hay.”
Her eyes widened. “Trust me, you wouldn’t have lasted more than a few hours if it hadn’t been exceptional. I never allow men to stay the night, let alone a whole weekend.”
He threw up his arms in frustration. He was clearly missing something. “Then what’s with the ‘so long and don’t let the door hit your backside on your way out’ attitude?”
“Instead of what—a teary goodbye? We’re not ‘going steady.’”
Her use of air quotes really chapped his ass. “No, but I didn’t expect to be treated like a gigolo either.”
“I didn’t leave a tip on the bedside table.”
“Good to know I’m a cheap date.” He took some bills out of his pocket and laid them on her case. “My share of the room-service tab.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She gathered the money and held it out to him.
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Just want to be sure you got your money’s worth.”
Sapphie tossed the money on the bed and sighed. “I don’t know how this got out of hand,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to offend you by being honest about the future. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise, but at no point did I suggest this was anything more than a fun time shared by two consenting adults.”
Her earnest apology made him feel like a petulant jerk.
She continued, “Aside from the fact that I don’t have the working life to date anyone seriously, I’m not interested in a relationship or getting married. I don’t have to answer to anyone and I do as I please, without feeling guilty.”
“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to be a jackass. I don’t know why I’m ticked. I’m not looking for a steady relationship right now either.” He gave her a chagrined smile. “I told you I didn’t know the etiquette for sleeping with someone these days. I guess I expected...more than this.” He waved a hand to encompass the room.
Sapphie touched his arm. “You’re a great guy and this was fabulous. But that doesn’t change a thing. I’d be happy to see you when I’m in town. But if you can’t go with the flow and accept how it will be, then there’s no point in us getting together again.”
He wanted to tell her he could handle things this way—especially for another weekend like the one they’d just spent. But he’d be lying to himself, as well as her. He might not know what he wanted from dating, or whatever the hell this situation was called, but he knew he wanted to be more than an itch to be scratched whenever she was in town. However much fun that might be.
Still, he hesitated. Maybe over time he could convince her to change her mind.
No. He cut off that idea ruthlessly. He wouldn’t make the mistake of being led into something he didn’t want because of great sex again. Better to make a clean break. Pull off the bandage and take the hit.
Scott shoved his fingers through his hair. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”
Disappointment flashed in her blue eyes, making him want to snatch back his words. But he held firm.
She nodded once. “Your breakfast will be getting cold.”
“Can’t let good food go to waste.” He leaned down and pressed a hot, hard kiss to her lips, stealing one last taste. Then he turned and sauntered to the balcony. “Safe travels.”
He lifted one of the covers and breathed in the smell of bacon, hoping to replace her scent, which lingered in his nostrils. It didn’t work.
“Thanks. Good luck, Scotty.”
He didn’t watch her leave, choosing instead to focus on pouring maple syrup on a stack of pancakes.
When the door snicked shut, he set down the bottle and slumped onto a chair.
Scott sat for a long time, wondering how something so wonderful had gone so wrong. When he finally shook off the introspective mood, his stomach turned at the sight of the congealing breakfast. Like the arena horn sounding the end of a game, it signaled the end of the weekend.
Time to move on. Tomorrow was another day...and all the other crap he’d cited to himself after tough losses.
He rose, grabbed his jacket and, with one final look around the room, strode out the door.
* * *
“SO WHO WAS the lucky guy and did you have a fabulous time?”
Sapphie hesitated before answering Issy’s question. She wasn’t sure what to say about the weekend with Scotty—especially the awkward, unsatisfactory way it had ended—and she knew her best friend wouldn’t settle for anything glib.
Thankfully, the waitress in the airline’s first-class lounge stopped to ask if Sapphie would like anything to eat.
“Hold on a sec, Issy.” She smiled at the waitress. “I’d love a club sandwich and a glass of Pinot Grigio. Thank you.” She returned to the phone conversation. “Sorry, but I’ve been on the go since Marty called this morning and this is the first chance I’ve had to eat something other than an in-flight packet of pretzels.”
“No wonder you stay slim,” Issy said. “I’d have gnawed the seat in front of me.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t have if you’d seen the man in that seat. He was the epitome of an aging lothario, from his coiffed hair to his shiny suit and patent shoes, with lifts. Not to mention the eye-watering cologne.”
“Eww. Even your description of him is enough to put me off my food.”
Sapphie laughed. “This life isn’t as glamorous as you think.”
“You sat a couple of seats away from Aidan Turner last month.”
“And he was very charming.”
“Speaking of charming, you never said who whisked you away from the reception. I know it wasn’t Taylor. He left early, too, but he was alone.”
“What happened? He sent a text saying the night was a disaster, but I haven’t had the chance to catch up with him.” After arriving from New Jersey, she’d rushed to her apartment in Chicago to switch suitcases before heading back to O’Hare for her flight to LA.
“From what I understand, there was some macho male posturing between Taylor and Lizzie’s date, which turned into shoving. One of them knocked into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks—which the date ended up wearing.”
Sapphie winced. “Poor Mad Dog.” That hadn’t worked out quite as he’d planned.
“Lizzie was embarrassed and gave him a piece of her mind. He stormed out of the party. You missed all the fun. But then, I’m guessing you were having your own fun.”
She might as well tell her, before Issy applied the thumbscrews. “I was.” Sapphie paused, then said in a rush, “With Scotty Matthews.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. “As in the recently retired Ice Cats captain?”
“The very same.”
Issy giggled. “If I wasn’t a happily married woman, I’d be so jealous. That’s even better than your Aidan Turner story. Scotty Matthews is totally and utterly H-O-T.”
Sapphie rolled her eyes. “I don’t think my goddaughter is old enough to understand hot, let alone in that context.”
“I’m not so sure. The way she batted her eyelashes at all the Ice Cats at our reception has J.B. threatening to lock her up until she’s fifty.”
“To protect her from guys like him. Or rather, how he used to be.” The hotshot hockey star had been a real ladies’ man before he’d fallen in love with Issy. “No wonder he’s concerned. She’s inherited his charm, as well as his good looks.”
“Excuse me. Her good looks came from my side of the family.”
“Of course they did.”
“Speaking of gorgeous, Scotty has that whole handsome, brooding, hidden-depths thing going on. I bet he’s intense in bed.”
Desire tugged deep in her belly. “He’s very...focused. Single-minded.”
“Ooh, that’s a delicious thought.”
The memory was making Sapphie’s body hum with need. She tamped it down, then changed the subject. “Anyway, Marty wants me in LA for a meeting. Apparently, something big is going down. If it’s another acquisition, it could result in a major new contract.”
“That’s great. I’m so proud of you. We’ll have to celebrate when you’re next in Jersey.” Issy paused. “But what aren’t you telling me about Scotty?”
Damn it. Sapphie should have known Issy wouldn’t let the subject drop so easily. “Nothing.”
“Uh-huh. What’s the opposite of ‘the lady doth protest too much’? You’re not normally so close lipped about your dates. Did he turn into a jerk when the weekend was over?”
“Of course not.” Sapphie couldn’t blame Scotty for how he’d reacted. She’d gone about the goodbye all wrong.
It hadn’t been deliberate. She’d been swimming in unfamiliar waters and gotten scared. Instead of being cool, calm and collected, she’d blustered her way through it. And screwed up royally.
It had started going belly-up when she’d awoken, wrapped in Scotty’s arms—his body curved around hers, her butt cradled in his groin, their legs entwined and his hand cupping her breast. The heat from his bare skin had seared the length of her body. And she’d loved it. She’d snuggled closer and savored the sensation of being cocooned with him.
Until she’d panicked. Because she’d loved it. Because she hadn’t pulled away, as she would normally have done.
Sapphie wasn’t a cuddler in bed. Sex was one thing, but sleep required space. Which was why either she left or she asked her partner to. Perhaps her habit was a leftover from sharing a bed with her sister, Emerald, for years until she’d figured out a better situation—a discarded bunk bed that she’d rescued from the side of the road and repainted. Since leaving home, she’d always had her own space and guarded it ruthlessly. Any invasion of that space was by invitation and never permanent.
The realization that Scotty had made her react differently had set off alarm bells. And the downward spiral had begun. She hated that instead of exiting gracefully, she’d blown it all up.
But she didn’t want to explain that to Issy. At least, not right now. “I can’t tell you anything more. I’m in an airline lounge, surrounded by business travelers.”
“Hmm.” Issy clearly wasn’t fooled by her excuse. “Tell me one thing—are you okay?”
Sapphie cursed the hesitation before she answered. “I’m fine.” She added hurriedly, “Just got a lot on my mind, preparing for tomorrow.”
“Are you planning to see each other again?” Concern edged Issy’s tone.
“I thought you said one thing.” Sapphie’s light laugh sounded forced.
“It’s a clarification.”
She sighed. “No. The weekend with Scotty was a one-and-done.”
“For both of you?”
Another damn hesitation. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s the way it goes sometimes.” She cleared her throat to mask the sudden tightness. Thankfully, the attendant brought her dinner. “I should go. My food has arrived and I need to eat before they call my flight.”
“All right. But you know where I am, if you need to talk.”
“Thanks.” She couldn’t bring herself to say there was nothing to talk about. “Kiss my goddaughter good-night.”
Once she’d hung up, Sapphie ate and went over the weekend with Scotty. Even though it was for the best, she couldn’t help wishing that their goodbye hadn’t been so fraught. So final.
The problem was that they were bound to see each other again. It was almost impossible for their paths not to cross, given their mutual friends and her season ticket for the Ice Cats. It was hard to imagine bumping into him and not being able to spend time with him again. Maybe they could...
Sapphie cut herself off. Scotty had made it clear that he didn’t do casual, and she didn’t want anything else. So why was she tempted to break her own rules for him?
What was it about Scotty that turned everything upside down for her?
The announcement that her flight was boarding was almost a relief. Sapphie gathered her belongings and headed out of the lounge toward the departure gate at a brisk pace. She was able to get on the plane and into her assigned seat right away.
Though she worked on the flight, during the limo ride to her building and for an hour when she arrived at her apartment, Scotty hovered in the back of her mind. She gave up trying to read documents, because she wasn’t able to concentrate enough to take in the information. Instead, she wrote and planned. Presentations, emails, anything to keep her brain active and on task.
Anything she could do without being affected by thoughts of the weekend and Scotty.
Sapphie hoped that exhaustion would lead to a deep, dreamless sleep. No such luck. Steamy, erotic dreams took over the minute her eyes closed. Frustrating dreams that ended with her jolting awake before she reached completion. That left her drenched with sweat, aching with need and desperate for relief. Restless, she tossed and turned until her sheets were a twisted mess.
She was awake before her alarm the following morning and had to press an icy washcloth to her eyes to soothe the puffy results of her disturbed night. After a long, pounding shower, artfully applied makeup and her favorite shoes, she finally felt ready to face the day’s meeting. She reviewed the latest status of her projects for Marty Antonelli as she wolfed down juice and toast. By the time she headed out the door, briefcase in hand, to the waiting car, she was almost back to normal.
Which was critical; she had to be at her best for Marty. Not just because he was her biggest client, but because he constantly kept her on her toes. He gave the impression of being a genial, bumbling Italian, but he was one of the sharpest businessmen she’d ever met.
The upside of rearranging her schedule for this meeting was that he’d promised this would be worth her while. Given that her current project with the NBA team he owned was now in the implementation stages and required less of her oversight, that likely meant a new project for one of his other businesses.
She wondered which one he wanted her to look at next. His baseball team? His NASCAR team? His movie complexes? All would be interesting challenges. It was a shame he didn’t own a hockey franchise. Now that, she really would enjoy.
Arriving at the Antonelli headquarters, she strode through the lobby toward the elevators, greeting the security guards. On the executive floor the receptionist told her that the meeting was in the boardroom and gave her a heads-up that it was a full house.
“Any clues as to what’s going on, Sally?”
The elegant redhead shook her head but said in a lowered voice, “The lawyers were here working with Mr. Antonelli over the weekend. Jenna was also here, but you know she’d cut out her own tongue before saying anything.”
Marty’s secretary was notoriously protective of her boss’s business.
Sally continued, “I’ve been asked to get A-1 fueled and ready for Thursday. The flight plan is for Teterboro, via Chicago to pick you up. Mr. Antonelli wants the whole team to arrive on the corporate jet.”
“I wonder why he’s flying to New Jersey when he was in New York a week ago.”
“I guess all will be revealed shortly.” Sally smiled. “I got some of your favorite pastries, so don’t let the vultures in the boardroom grab them all.”
“Thank you.” Sapphie waggled her fingers. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Entering the packed boardroom, she noted that all the department directors were seated alongside the legal team. There was definitely about to be a major announcement. Excitement bubbled through her.
Marty bounded over, his dark eyes alight with excitement. “Ah, good, you’re here, Bella Sapphire. Before I forget, Gloria said to tell you that you’re to come to dinner tonight. No excuses or I’ll be in big trouble.”
Sapphie smiled. He might act as if Gloria was a scary harridan, but Sapphie knew better. His sweet, diminutive wife adored him. And while he might be a ruthless Rottweiler in business, Marty was like a spaniel puppy when it came to Gloria. “I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble. Besides, it’ll be lovely to see her again and catch up.”
“Excellent. I’ll let her know. Now, grab a coffee and we can get started.”
She’d barely settled in her chair, midway down the long mahogany table, when Marty took center stage in front of the enormous plasma screen showing his corporate logo. The room quieted instantly.
Rocking on his feet, he brought up his first slide. “We’ve had a successful year. Our current portfolio is strong, profitable and growing ahead of market projections. It would have been nice to have done better in the NBA play-offs, but we made it to the party for the first time in five years.”
Around the table, everyone smiled and nodded. As Marty went on to praise the management team, highlighting the roles key departments had played—which included a generous acknowledgment of Sapphie’s work—a sense of anticipation built.
He didn’t keep them in suspense too long. “I’m not one to rest on my laurels and I’m always seeking new opportunities. I like to acquire businesses where I see great synergy, as well as potential for growth and improved profitability. I also kinda like sports.”
Everyone laughed on cue; Marty’s desire to own a full complement of sports franchises—major and minor—was well-known.
“So, I’m pleased to tell you that on Friday we will be in New Jersey announcing to the media that I have bought the Ice Cats. Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a hockey team. And not just any team, but the current Stanley Cup champions.” Marty rubbed his hands together. “This is going to be fun.”
There was a moment of shocked silence as the news sank in. Then the room erupted with applause and chatter.
Sapphie was stunned. Although he’d asked her to assess the viability of owning one of the NHL’s expansion teams versus acquiring an existing franchise, the Ice Cats hadn’t been mentioned—other than as a pipe dream. Marty had grown up supporting the Ice Cats, but as far as she’d known, they weren’t for sale.
Sure, there had been rumors of the Scartelli brothers’ financial trouble following some unwise investments, but they’d always managed to brush the speculation aside. Obviously, their most recent highly publicized refinancing deal wasn’t as sound as they’d led everyone to believe.
Marty waved his hands, silencing the room. “I’m glad you’re as enthusiastic about this new venture as I am, but we have a lot to do before we leave on Thursday. So let’s get down to the nuts and bolts.”
For the next couple hours, he and his vice president of business development took them through the acquisition. What soon became clear was that although the franchise was highly successful on the ice, it wasn’t making nearly enough money. Its profitability had declined considerably during the Scartellis’ ownership, driven largely by the brothers’ whims. Splashy promotional initiatives with poor returns, which at the time Sapphie, as a fan, had thought were unwise, had left the business in a weak financial condition.
The Scartelli brothers, realizing they were in trouble and unwilling to let the National Hockey League take over the team, had approached Marty, who’d been only too willing to buy his favorite team—for a knockdown price, naturally.
When they finally broke for lunch, Sapphie approached Marty. “Congratulations. That’s one heck of a move.”
“I told you this would be worth rearranging your schedule.” Marty grinned. “I want you to be my right-hand woman with the Ice Cats. Given what you’ve helped me achieve with my basketball team, I know you can do the same with this team. And you’ll be happier advising me on a sport you like, yes?”
“Of course. But I warn you, I’ll be adding a pair of season tickets to the terms and conditions of the new contract, and they won’t be in the nosebleeds.”
He laughed. “Taken as read. Now eat. We have a long afternoon ahead of us. I want as much out of you as I can get before you have to head to Chicago.”
“Yes, boss.” She gave him a smart salute, then headed over to the trays of food on the mahogany credenzas.
As she filled her plate, Sapphie’s mind whirred with all that she’d have to do. Not least, alert her team, in the Chicago office, that they were about to get doubly busy. In fact, she should look into hiring more staff. She could afford the added expense because this new contract would cement her business’s success.
Looked like she’d be spending more time in New Jersey after all. That would be great for seeing Issy and Sophia. And, of course, watching games.
She’d just bitten into a sandwich when it occurred to her that it also increased the possibility of seeing Scotty again. Sapphie chewed determinedly, even though she might have been eating one of the handouts for all that she could taste the food. She swallowed hard, then drained a small bottle of water.
What was she worried about? Scotty wasn’t with the team any longer. Not that she’d deal with the players on a daily basis anyway, but she always believed in talking to the whole organization as part of her evaluation process. Besides, although it was inevitable that she’d run into him, it wouldn’t be on this initial trip or even for a while.
She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
* * *
“DRUMMER FOR A BAND?” Scott stopped lacing his skate and took his cell from where he’d lodged it between his ear and his shoulder. “Maybe I should come and check this new boyfriend out.”
He was only half teasing. He didn’t like the thought of some long-haired, drugged-out musician putting his hands on Angela.
“Da-ad.” His daughter gave a loud, put-upon sigh. “I’m twenty-one and can take care of myself. I don’t need you vetting my dates anymore.”
“Maybe not, but it wouldn’t hurt for Sean to know what will happen to him if he doesn’t treat you right.”
“I’ll give him a taste of the business end of your hockey stick, like you showed me.”
Scott grinned. “That’s my girl.”
“Got to go, or I’ll be late for class. Love you.”
“Love you, too. And if you see your brother, tell him the occasional text would be good so that I know he’s okay.”
“Will do.” Angela laughed, then hung up.
Scott tossed his cell into his bag, then tightened his laces and tied them off. He grabbed his stick, then headed out of the locker room. Three of his friends who still played for the Cats would be joining him shortly for a prearranged practice, but he enjoyed this time with the rink to himself.
Relishing the crisp air and the fresh ice beneath his blades, Scott began to warm up by skating laps. He picked up speed and switched directions, doing crossovers forward and backward in time to the pounding rock beat blaring from the speakers. Then he switched to sprints between the blue lines.
“Looking good, old man,” Rick “Ice Man” Kasanski called as he stepped out of the penalty box carrying a bucket of pucks. “Having your butt planted in a commentator’s chair all season hasn’t dulled your skills much.”
Scott stopped sharply, sending a spray of ice over his friend. “I can still skate your candy ass into the ground, Ice Man.”
“Please. You’ve never been faster than me.” Kasanski brushed aside Scott’s comment with a wave of his gloved hand. “At least, not going forward. I’ll admit you might have the edge going backward, D-man.”
“You can take that to the bank. It’s all the racing to protect the net when you cocky forwards cough up the puck.”
Ice Man swiped his stick at Scott’s legs, trying to hook his skates from under him, but Scott managed to avoid him. He gave a colorful analysis of Kasanski’s parentage in reply.
“Come on, ladies.” Chance Rivera joined them, lining up water bottles on the dasher boards. “Put those handbags away.”
“Yeah. We have work to do.” The Cats’ backup goaltender, Chaz “Monty” Montgomery, skated up, trailing a practice net behind him. “Chance and I have a small wager on how many he can get past me. He’s buying me lunch when we’re done.”
Rivera snorted. “Have your wallet ready, Net-Boy. I’ve got moves that’ll earn me a steak with all the works.”
Monty pulled on his mask. “Winning at backyard hockey with your toddler twins doesn’t mean you can beat the master of the twine.”
“Behold, the Master of the Twine,” Scott intoned in a Hollywood-trailer voice. “Fends off pucks with his mighty twig.”
“More like the Knave of the Basket. Because of the biscuits he collects in there.” Kasanski cracked up at his own joke. He only laughed harder when Monty flipped him the bird and told him where he could stick those biscuits.
Before anyone could drop the gloves, Scott corralled his friends and got them skating warm-up drills.
After a decent workout, which had them all pretty gassed, they headed to the locker room. As they showered and dressed, Chance and Monty continued their debate about whether the goaltender would still have won their contest if they hadn’t been chased off the rink by a figure-skating class. Naturally, Kasanski did his best to wind up both sides, while Scott declared himself Switzerland.
Scott was zipping up his sports bag when his cell chirped with a missed call. Picking it up, he was surprised to see the name of his former general manager.
He looked at his friends. “Any reason Callum Hardshaw would be calling me?”
Kasanski shook his head. “Not that I can think of.”
Rivera shrugged. “Maybe he wants to offer you a job.”
“He knows I don’t want to coach.” Though even that would be better than sitting on his ass at home, doing nothing.
“What about scouting?” Monty offered.
“Definitely not. I’m done with traveling the whole time. Scouting would be worse. Heading to all those junior and college teams to check out prospects—I’d never be home.”
“Team ambassador?” Chance pulled on a black T-shirt with the team’s snow-leopard logo. “You know, schmooze the sponsors and the season-ticket holders at Ice Cats events.”
“Not my scene either.” A job where he had to spend his time making small talk? No way.
“I bet Hardshaw wants you for some PR stuff,” Ice Man said, combing his wet dark hair. “Some fancy, high-dollar-a-plate dinner where you’re the big-bucks draw.”
“Why would the GM call me for that? Usually I hear from the marketing guy when they want my face or name.”
“Didn’t he move on?” Monty frowned. “To that soccer team, the Bridgers. He got pissed about the way the Scartellis kept nixing his proposals while spending crazy amounts of money on weird promotions the fans hated.”
“There were changes in the front office over the summer,” Scott said. “But I thought it was because of budget cuts. Either way, it’s a shame. The kid was pretty switched on.”
“If you ask me, those kinds of people—advertising, marketing, PR—are a dime a dozen,” Rivera said.
“None of which tells me why Hardshaw called.” Scott tapped his cell against his chin.
“You could do the obvious thing and phone him back.”
He cuffed the back of Kasanski’s head. “I know that, numbnuts.” He hit Call Back.
Hardshaw answered on the first ring. “Hey, Scotty, how’s it going?”
“Not bad. You?”
“Yeah, good. Busy. You know how it is.”
He didn’t but played along. “For sure. So, what can I do for you?”
“Any chance you could stop by sometime today? I have a couple ideas I’d like to bounce off you.”
Scott tried to read the GM’s voice but couldn’t. “I have an hour this afternoon, at three, if that works for you.” He had the whole freaking afternoon free, but he wasn’t about to let Hardshaw know that.
“Great. See you then.”
Once he’d hung up, Scott turned to his friends. “He wants to see me.” He relayed the brief conversation. “I’ve got nothing to lose by hearing what he has to say. It’s not like I have anything else on the horizon.”
Monty clapped him on the shoulder. “They say the second year of retirement is the hardest. When reality sets in. If you can get through that, you’ll be fine.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Good thing you have us around to keep you from turning into an old man—pipe and slippers and reading the paper by the fire.” Kasanski smacked Scott’s stomach with the back of his hand. “We’ll keep you from getting fat and flabby, too.”
Scott slung his bag over his shoulder. “Look who’s talking, Ice Man. You were puffing like a steam train in those last sprints. Too much fun in the sun over the summer?”
“Too much junk food and too many margaritas in Cancún,” Rivera said. “With that and J.B.’s wedding bash on the weekend, I don’t think Kasanski has stopped partying since we raised the Cup.”
“Like you’re any better,” Ice Man scoffed. “None of us are.”
“You forget, I have the twins to keep me on my toes. Running around after them is a full-time job.” Chance’s wife had suffered badly from postpartum depression and walked out on him and their babies eighteen months ago. “Especially now they’re walking, talking and into everything. It’s the terrible twos times two.”
“No joy finding another nanny?”
“The agency sent a woman who seems to be working out okay. Still, I want to spend as much time with them as I can. Especially in the off-season.”
The three friends understood how hard it had been for Chance. They’d stood by him and seen him through the worst of it.
Always the smart-ass, Kasanski lightened the tone as they walked out of the rink. “Whatever you say, you were puffing as much as me, Net-Boy and the old guy here, Rivera.”
“In your dreams, Ice Cube.”
“You wish you had my dreams.” Kasanski grinned. “Anyway, the hard work starts now and I’ll be in prime condition for training camp. If only it didn’t take so much longer to get in shape than it did when we were in our twenties.”
“Amen to that,” Scott said fervently. “That’s why I had to hang ’em up in the end.”
“Gone are the days when players used to have a drink and a smoke between periods,” Monty said sadly, even though he was too young to remember that.
“The speed some of the old guys skated at, you could have a drink and a smoke between plays,” Ice Man added, tossing his bag into the back of his SUV. “Now we have to watch calories and monitor food intake like Miss freaking America.”
“Which brings us to lunch. Good thing, because I’m starving.” Monty opened his car door. “Usual place?”
The four men agreed and headed off to the local bistro they’d been frequenting for many years. After lunch they agreed to meet up again the following day at the gym and then went their separate ways.
Scott drove to the Cats’ head office. Though he was a little early, Hardshaw’s assistant took him straight to the GM’s office.
“Can I get you a drink, Scotty?” Doreen asked.
“Ice water would be great, thanks.”
“Make that two, please.” Callum came around his desk to shake Scott’s hand. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Your call intrigued me.” Scott took the seat his former GM indicated, while Callum leaned against the front of his desk.
“These are interesting times for the Cats. People outside the business don’t understand that the summer after winning the Cup is actually more difficult than one when you’ve lost it. Riding high on the win creates its own set of problems.”
Scott nodded. “I know you have some tough decisions to make, especially with the salary cap not going up as much as it has in the past.” Plus he’d heard the rumors about the Scartellis’ financial problems.
“Right. We have some big contracts up for renewal over the next twelve to twenty-four months. We also need to think about how to leverage our success into future strength. It’s hard to repeat a Cup win the following year, no matter how much we want to.”
It was true. Since the powerhouse teams of the ’70s and ’80s, few teams had managed back-to-back Cup wins.
“I want the Cats to be positioned to win in alternate years like Chicago and LA have done. But as an organization, we need to make sure we’re delivering for our fans, our sponsors and our owners, too.”
“For sure.” Scott still wasn’t sure where this was leading. “Having retired, I’m far enough removed to get that this is a business and the team’s performance on the ice is only one aspect—albeit the most important one—of how success is measured.”
“Exactly.” Hardshaw snapped his fingers. “I knew you’d see the bigger picture.”
“So, what can I do for you?”
“I understand that the commentating gig isn’t working out for you.”
“Yeah.”
“Frankly, that was a waste of your skills. There are plenty of other guys who can do the talking-heads thing.”
“That was the network’s view, too.” Scott made a dismissive gesture. “Can’t say I’ll miss it.”
“Their loss is my gain, I hope.”
“In what way?”
“I’m looking for a new right-hand man. One who can complement my strengths and weaknesses. Who can bring fresh insights to the organization. Who is close enough to the game to provide a player’s perspective but still understand the financial needs of a business. I think you fit that bill perfectly.”
Join the team’s management? For the first time since he retired, Scott felt a genuine stirring of interest. The sports-bar idea was a bit of fun, but this was something he could get his teeth into. “What about Brendan?”
The current assistant general manager had been with the Cats since Scott was a rookie. He was also the only one left from the previous GM’s era. Brendan was a nice-enough guy but, in Scott’s opinion, resistant to change and lacking in vision.
Callum crossed his arms. “We both agreed it was time for fresh blood. He’ll transition into one of our ambassadors, so he can still be part of the organization and we can tap into his knowledge base whenever we need it. The man has a phenomenal memory of the Cats’ history and players.”
“That’s a good role for him.”
“A win-win. So, what do you think? Are you up for a new challenge?”
Although it seemed like an interesting solution, Scott didn’t want to leap into the job without knowing more. “I’d definitely like to hear what would be involved.”
* * *
“I’M GLAD YOU’LL be part of my team. Welcome aboard.”
Callum’s simple words, when Scott signed his contract two days later, summed up what had really appealed to him. What Scott had missed since he’d retired. Being part of a team. And not just any team, but his beloved Ice Cats.
He’d discussed the job with Andy, his friends and his kids before accepting Callum’s offer. Andy had reiterated his view that Scott would do well in a business role. Angela had teased him about finding another position where he could boss people around, and Wayne had thought it was cool that his dad would be in management. Kasanski had put in a bid for a mega-millions mega-year contract, which Scott had treated with the respect it deserved—he’d ignored it.
As for Scott, he was psyched. For the first time in a year, he was eager to get started. “Glad to be here.”
Callum wasted no time throwing Scott in the deep end. After a quick introduction to the front-office staff—most of whom Scott knew from his time as a player—and a review of his induction schedule, the pair went through the issues that needed to be dealt with before training camp began.
They were about to break for lunch when Callum’s cell rang.
He glanced at the caller ID. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s Jim Scartelli.”
As Callum exchanged pleasantries with the owner, that familiar chill slithered down Scott’s neck. The presentiment worsened when Hardshaw’s face paled.
“I see. Thank you for letting me know. Yes, I’ll be there.” Callum ended the call and stared at his cell for several moments before looking at Scott, his expression a little bleak.
“Is something wrong?” Even though it was obvious, Scott sensed his boss needed prodding to be able to speak.
“The team has been sold. There will be an announcement tomorrow, but the Scartellis wanted to give me a heads-up.” Callum swore. “I knew they were considering a sale—I helped with due diligence for potential buyers—but I had no idea things had moved so quickly. I thought we had more time.”
“How will that affect us?”
“That’s up to our new owner. Mr. Antonelli may want his own people in charge. I’ll have my work cut out convincing him I’m the right man for the job.”
And if Antonelli didn’t want Callum, he wouldn’t want his management team either. “You built the Cats into a Cup-winning team, despite a bargain-basement budget. Our new owner has to respect that.”
“I hope so, but the Scartellis’ lack of investment has tied my hands with marketing and business development for a long time and it shows. I could be the easy sacrifice.” Hardshaw sighed heavily. “Anyway, we’ll find out more soon enough. Antonelli and his posse are flying in this evening and they expect to meet us right away.” He gave Scott an apologetic look. “Looks like you’re going to have a trial by fire.”
What could he say? “It’s an interesting first day, for sure.” Scott shrugged, as if it was no problem to him. But he couldn’t shake that sense of foreboding.
