“But I’m too much of a distraction and now that Ben’s done this—”
Her father’s arm draped around her shoulder. A vein in his neck pulsed and his features tightened. “Ben’s a selfish scumbag. Attempting to destroy your life and Zac’s career is utterly contemptible. I feel partly at fault for hiring such an idiot in the first place. Believe me, he’ll pay. You’re staying here tonight. Your apartment has been compromised.”
“Please.” The strain on her mother’s face and frustration in her voice showed the toll of the media firestorm.
She couldn’t control the press, but agreeing would ease her parents’ tension. She gently squeezed her mother’s hand. “Okay, I promise. For tonight.”
…
After a restless night’s sleep, Heather sat with her bodyguard in her parents’ family room, dressed in jeans and her Hustler’s jersey with Zac’s name and number on the back. Images from the second period of the Hustlers’ game flashed across the TV screen. She glanced at Declan, stretched out on her father’s leather recliner. “This is the first game I’ve ever missed.”
Brow wrinkled, he pointed at the screen. “You’re watching it.”
She shook her head. “I’ve always watched from my parents’ suite at the arena.”
“Same game, just a different seat.”
Drawing her knees to her chin, Heather wrapped her arms around her legs. The feeling of exclusion was worse than she’d anticipated. The camera flashed to the owner’s suite. Her parents sat side by side. Her usual spot was empty. There wasn’t any sign of Ben. Her father had met with him before the start of the game. The slug’s fall from grace elicited no emotion from her other than satisfaction. He’d destroyed her life and deserved all the ramifications that came with his downfall.
Lined up for a face-off, Zac filled the screen. The camera zoomed in on a close-up of his profile. He embodied strength, control, and intelligence, and a giving heart that not many people saw. With a determined set to his jaw and perfect form, he won the face-off and sent the puck spiraling down the ice and onto Sequoia’s stick. The right-winger spun around and executed a slap shot. The puck sailed through the goalie’s pads and crashed into the back of the net.
“Goal!” The announcer’s voice carried over the crowd’s roar. Thirty-five thousand fans jumped to their feet. Zac’s teammates patted him on the back. Heather shivered and hugged herself tighter. Leaving for New York in the morning would be the perfect balm to her sorrow. She’d never forget Zac, but as long as he was okay, she might be able to be happy again someday.
“One minute until the end of the period. They’re moving the puck well, definitely outplaying the other team.” Heather forced her voice to a cheerful tone for Declan.
On screen, Zac sat at the end of the bench, talking to Sequoia. The camera panned the bench, then focused on Jane Mattingfield, a young rink-side reporter, grabbing Zac’s arm. “Congratulations on the assist. Without Heather here to distract you, you’re playing great.”
The reporter’s dig hurt, but confirmed that her decision to leave town was the right one.
Zac’s eyes narrowed and iced over. Without a word, he stood and walked into the tunnel leading to the locker rooms. The Jumbotron showed his exit.
Heather sat up straight. “What’s he doing? You don’t leave the bench while there’s time on the clock.”
Chapter Seven
Zac stormed past the trainers and security as he headed to the locker room. No matter what he did, good or bad, Heather would receive insults and threats. Not anymore.
“Zac.” Jane jogged to his side. The barracuda reporter stopped him before he could barricade himself inside the locker room. “Are you injured?”
“No.” He yanked off his helmet and marched on.
“Are you allowed off the bench while the puck is in play?” She shoved a microphone in his face.
Enough. “Ms. Mattingfield, what do you know about Heather Ryan?”
The reporter stood silent and doe-eyed for a second. Then the razor focus returned with a lower, more serious voice. “From several press reports I’ve read, Heather’s your current girlfriend. However, her absence from the owner’s suite for the first time ever indicates you may have broken things off with her. And it seems the team is benefiting.”
Zac wouldn’t hit a woman, physically anyway. “Interesting. You’re telling me that Heather’s presence dictates my ability to play hockey?”
“Was it a coincidence that you had a tough game when she was here on Sunday, that you’ve had a losing streak since your relationship began, and now you’re playing spectacularly?” She stepped closer and grinned.
“That’s pretty damn insulting to me, the team, and Heather. If she waltzed into the rink right now, I’d be able to take down Denver with the same skill I exhibited in the first two periods. In fact, let’s see if that’s true. I’ll return to the ice when she’s standing at rink side.”
Ms. Mattingfield’s stance wilted as she closed her mouth. Good. Stupid people should remain silent, especially stupid reporters.
“If you’ll excuse me. I’ll see you when Heather arrives.”
He pushed his way through the growing crowd around him and found some privacy in the locker room for the thirty seconds before the team crowded into the room.
Coach Green shoved toward him first. “What the hell was that sideshow? You better have a missing kneecap to leave like that.”
“I can’t play until Heather arrives.”
The entire team crowded around him, voicing their opinions of his actions, both good and bad.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, Zac, but you’d better be on the bench at the start of the next period, or you’ll be paying fines so steep you’ll be forced to sell your liver.” Coach Green gathered the rest of the team around him and shot Zac several nasty looks while he discussed strategy for the third period.
Sequoia slipped away from the team and stood next to him. “What’s going on?”
“Heather won’t be free of all this negative publicity unless I get the crowd behind her. I’m taking a shot at keeping her in my life, and I hope to God she accepts.”
He elbowed Zac and smiled. “You’re willing to risk your own career for her? You really do love her.”
Yes. He did.
One of the assistant coaches walked past. “Let’s go. It’s show time.”
Zac nodded to Sequoia to head out to the ice. He stayed behind and received several verbal assaults and a challenging punch into his shoulder from Andre before the team cleared the room. He’d either win Heather’s heart and gain back the respect of the team, or he’d be better off traded a thousand miles away.
A security officer and a janitor remained in the locker room with him. Zac went to his locker and pulled out the Tiffany blue box. What if she didn’t come? Patrick would never forgive him, and Heather would be in more danger. He needed faith and whole lot of luck.
…
Heather jumped to her feet after hearing the media claim Zac wouldn’t be returning to the ice. That didn’t make sense.
She stared at the screen as the team arrived to the bench. Zac wasn’t with them. The camera focused on a young blonde reporter standing by the tunnel.
“Zac told me he wouldn’t play until Heather Ryan joined him at rink side. While the Atlantic City fans find her unlucky, he claims he’ll win the game only in her presence. Unbelievable. Will she come to the arena in time or will her absence keep this rising star benched? We’ll keep you up to date on all developments. Let’s go back to the ice and watch as John Sweeney takes Zac’s place between Sequoia and Fournier.”
“Is he crazy?” Heather’s heart skipped its normal rhythm at the thought of the possible implosion of his career. What was he doing? If she didn’t show, and he didn’t play, the fans and media would persecute her.
Her phone rang. Her father. She snatched it up. “Dad, what should I do?”
“The kid is an idiot. But this is you
r decision. I’ll support you either way.”
His calm voice eased some of her tension. No matter what happened when she arrived, she had to show up. For Zac. “I definitely want to come.”
“Zac’s a good man.” He paused and she heard her mother’s muffled voice in the background. After a moment, her father’s voice rang through the speaker, warm and sincere. “As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with what your mother said last night. I think you’re good for each other. He’s risking everything for you, if that doesn’t show me what kind of man he is, I don’t know what would. Though, he’s still an idiot. And if we lose this game, I’m going to kill him.”
Hope bloomed in her heart.
“Thanks, Dad. I’m on my way.”
“Be safe. I’ll have security waiting for you at the entrance.”
She turned to Declan. “We have to hurry. It usually takes me forty minutes to get to the city from here, and that’s without contending with snow.”
Declan held out her coat. “I’ll get you there in thirty.”
She switched on the game as soon as they backed out of the driveway. “Oh, no. Sweeney just turned over the puck and with Sequoia in the penalty box, we’re already shorthanded.” Boos sounded from the speakers. She winced at the noise and willed them to play smarter.
“The crowd isn’t happy.” Declan zipped the car around an SUV.
The broadcast crew’s discussion of Zac’s refusal to play and speculation on whether she’d show up dominated the commentator’s conversation between the play-by-play analysis. Thanks to an ill-timed penalty by Sweeney, Denver scored another goal. She gripped her seat cushion and swore. Sweat beaded on her back. The Hustlers only held a one-point lead. What were Zac’s teammates thinking about his declaration?
After a tense twenty-five minutes and some creative driving, the arena came into view. Heather blew out a breath. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive. Ready or not, she had arrived.
Declan pulled into the VIP parking lot. Six security guards swarmed her car.
“Ms. Ryan. This way.” Extending a beefy hand, one of the guards helped her out of the car. They formed a wall around her as she entered the building. Her stomach wouldn’t feel on the verge of collapse if Zac had informed her of his plans. Maybe he would have if she’d answered any of his calls.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, drowning out the pounding of her heart. She couldn’t make out their sentiment. Did they hate her? What would happen when she reached the rink? She glanced back at Declan, who moved closer to her side.
Hands sweaty and shaky, stomach churning, she bit her cheek against a wave of dizziness and stepped into the tunnel.
…
What the hell was he thinking? Heather could be in New York, or L.A., or God knows where and would never make it to his side. Hurting her and the team had not been his intention, but as the minutes ticked away, and the second period moved into the third period, his stupidity incensed the fans, working them into a hostile frenzy. Most of his teammates wore their aggravation in their tense expressions.
Zac was used to making decisions on the fly, but this may have been his biggest failure. Pressure swarmed around him and stiffened his muscles. Even if he did return to the ice, he’d be so stressed, he could torpedo the rest of the game. He swallowed hard and glanced at the monitor.
Sweeney was outmatched against Denver’s first-line center, wingers, and veteran defensemen. Zac winced as the rookie lost the puck in a jumble of sticks and skates. Denver took advantage of the turnover by skating into the Hustlers’ territory and scoring a goal. Zac needed to make a decision. Should he stand here and wait for her? Or try to salvage the game? He decided to head to the rink. A loss would not endear Heather to the fans. He needed to fix his mistake. He turned toward the bench to retrieve his helmet.
“Here, Patrick needs to talk to you.” An assistant coach ran over to him and thrust a set of headphones into his hands.
Zac pulled them on and heard Patrick’s voice booming through the speakers. “Zac, my wife pointed out to me how wrong I was to doubt the sincerity of your intentions. You’ve proven yourself in your actions and placed Heather’s needs before your own.” He paused, and a glimmer of hope cut through Zac’s anxiety.
Patrick continued, “Heather’s entered the arena. So in the interests of my family over my team, I’m telling you that if you go back on the ice right now, you’ll be traded before the fans clear out of the arena.”
Zac whipped around and saw her at the end of the tunnel. A huge smile spread across his face.
She’s here.
He handed back the headset to the assistant and stepped closer to his future.
Heather looked terrified. He hated putting her in the spotlight, but hopefully, this one time would give her back her life. A mob of security surrounded her. The intense screaming of the fans grew when she stepped in the view of the camera linked to the Jumbotron. The game continued, but Zac stayed focused on Heather. In three huge strides, he had her in his arms. The sound amplified, and Heather’s face tucked into his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked, kissing the top of her head. A light dusting of snow decorated her hair.
She glanced up. Her beautiful eyes darted from the crowd to him. “Why am I here?”
“I can’t play without you.” He brushed her hair behind her ear and clasped her hands.
“Zac, this is insane.”
“Life without you is insane.” He lowered himself to one knee and enjoyed the change in her expression. Less fear and more shock, complete with wide eyes and open mouth. He needed to speak louder, because the crowd exploded around them. “Heather, I need you in my life more than I need air to breathe, water to drink, and much more than I need to play hockey. Marry me, so I know that no matter what happens during the day, I can always come home to you.”
He placed a four-carat diamond on her finger and said a silent thanks to her mother for knowing her ring size. A perfect fit.
“But we’ve only known each other a short time. Are you sure?” Her pink lips curved into a smile that spread straight to her glossy eyes.
“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life. I won’t do this without you. Marry me.”
“Yes.”
Zac leaped up, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her in defiance of all the naysayers.
The crowd erupted in a chaotic explosion of sound and camera flashes. Her warm lips moved under his, and her arms wrapped tight around his waist, locking them together. Pleasure consumed him. The steel that had encased his heart dissolved from the simple act of loving the right person. She was his perfect match. He pulled away before she completely ruined his ability to refocus.
“I love you, Heather. Can you wait here? I have a game to finish.”
“Go ahead. I love you, you totally crazy person,” she hollered over the din.
Zac hopped over the boards onto the ice. The arena erupted. Fans chanted for both Zac and Heather. As he skated by the bench, Sequoia tossed Zac his helmet, gave him a thumbs-up, and then followed him to ready for the face-off.
Three minutes to play and they were down by one goal. One to tie and guarantee overtime or two to win. The crowd’s frenzied roar nearly drowned out the referee’s shrill whistle. Despite the energy and tension brewing around him, Zac passed the puck forward to Sequoia and zoomed up the ice. The goalie deflected Sequoia’s shot. Zac pushed against a defenseman, battling for the puck in the corner of the rink. He knocked it toward the flash of black and red jerseys in front of the goalie. Sequoia scored in a sweet goal that slid behind the goalie’s leg.
Elation pumped fresh energy into his limbs. He grabbed Sequoia in a hug and received several pats and slaps from his teammates. One down, one to go.
Andre skated to his side. “Let’s go, man. We’ve got this.” He patted Zac’s helmet, then lined up for the next play.
Both teams battled hard. As the time clock ran down to ten seconds, Zac received a pass from Seq
uoia and sped down the ice. He faked a slap shot, then rammed the puck between the goalie’s skate and the goal post. The goal light flashed, the siren sounded, the play clock reached zero.
The crowd roared their appreciation of the game-winning goal. His teammates surrounded him in celebration, and then cleared a path leading directly to Heather. He lifted her over the boards into his arms and circled the ice, holding on tight to the most important prize he’d ever won.
Chapter Eight
A crackling fire, festive carols blasting from the speakers, and her fiancé by her side. A perfect Christmas.
Lulled by red wine and feelings of contentment, Heather, hand-in-hand with Zac, walked her parents to the front door of Zac’s country estate.
“Thanks for dinner, Princess.” Her father’s arms wrapped around her. “You cooked an amazing turkey. Let Zac clean up the dishes.”
“Definitely. Merry Christmas, Dad.” She turned and embraced her mother. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow, sweetie.”
After her mother hugged Zac, her father extended his hand to his future son-in-law. “I’ll see you in my office on Monday to finish the new contract. Remember, there aren’t any family bonuses. Bring your best offer.” He smiled as they shook.
“Will do.” Zac grinned and then clapped him on the back.
After calling out good-nights, Heather closed the door.
Zac caught her hand in his and led her to the towering Christmas tree. White lights twinkled among silver balls and the red bow streaming from the tree’s top.
She reached up to tweak the ribbon, and her engagement ring gleamed in the lights’ reflection.
Zac rummaged under the tree, emerging with a velvet box. “Merry Christmas.”
She smiled, lifted the lid, and gasped. Against the white lining, a delicate bracelet of rubies and black diamonds sparkled. “It’s beautiful.”
“I know you like team colors.” He took it from her and fastened the clasp around her wrist. His big hand guided her palm to his lips.
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