A Perfect Catch

by Anna Sugden

  Kenny studied him, his usually happy-go-lucky expression serious. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah.” His brother didn’t know how much.

  By unspoken agreement, they walked back toward Maggie’s hospital room.

  “Are you starting in goal again tomorrow night, bro?”

  “For sure.” Ike appreciated the change of subject. “What about you? Are you playing? Did the extra practice sessions help?”

  Kenny’s confidence had been knocked when Coach Macarty had made him a healthy scratch for the past couple of games. Ike had reassured him that it wasn’t unusual for a player in his first season with an NHL team to struggle—the game was much faster and harder than in the minors—but his brother wouldn’t be happy until he was back in the lineup.

  “Coach said he’d let me know in the morning.” Kenny sighed. “It wasn’t so bad. Watching from the press box gave me a different perspective on how the game is played here, so my positioning on the wing should be better. I just need a chance to put what I’ve learned into practice.”

  Ike clapped his brother on the back. “Keep at it, kid, and after the All-Star break in January, it’ll click.”

  “I hope so. I want to do my part, but I feel like I’m a step slower than everyone else.”

  “Right now, we all need to pick up our play, and that includes our big-money guys.”

  The Cats’ start to the new season had been okay, but not great. They were fourth in their division and a couple of places out of a playoff spot in the Eastern Conference. But their points tally masked the real win-loss picture; the extra points they’d gotten for going to overtime or a shoot-out blurred the fact that they’d lost every freaking one.

  Man, he hated shoot-outs and not just because he was 0-for-4 so far. Damn skills contest. They might as well toss a freaking coin. The Cats had lost a couple of their shoot-out stars when his brother Tru had moved to Denver and Vlad had returned to Russia, and to date no one else had stepped up. Sure, Ike could do better, too, but he needed a little help from his teammates. Like at least one of them could score. Then again, they weren’t scoring much during regulation, either. Worse, they couldn’t hold on to a one-goal lead. The number of times the Cats had given up the tying goal in the last two minutes of a game was plain crazy.

  They were all adjusting to the new coach’s “run and gun” style. The veterans, like Ike, Jake and the captain, Scotty Matthews, preferred a more defensively responsible system, where even their best forwards would back-check to help out. The kids liked the focus on offence, but tended to be a bit wild. Shots on net hadn’t gone up. Goals sure as hell hadn’t, either. Ike had had to play out of his mind to scrape the wins they’d got.

  Still, Kenny needed reassurance from his oldest brother, not a lecture. “The season’s only a month old. Things’ll get better. Besides, everyone has to sit out at some point in their career. Even JB Larocque.”

  “Sure, but no one’s going to send a superstar like JB down to the minors if he doesn’t deliver. I don’t want to go back to riding the bus now that I’ve made it to the show.”

  Jake came out of Maggie’s room in time to hear Kenny’s words. “Hang in there, bro. It’ll work out.”

  Kenny grinned. He didn’t stay down about anything too long. “If you old guys say so, I guess I’ll be okay.”

  Ike cuffed his brother around the head. “You need to learn to respect your elders and betters, brat.”

  “Yeah, but I’m only seeing elders here.”

  “We old guys have clout with the boss. You don’t want to be benched because you gave us too much lip.” Despite Ike’s ribbing, he was proud to have Kenny playing alongside him.

  “This is why I need Tru here.” Kenny shook his head. “He has a sense of humor.”

  “Speaking of which, I called him to give him the news,” Jake said. “He’s going to try to stay an extra day when the Avalanche comes east in December.”

  “It’ll be good to see him.” Ike grinned. “It feels weird not to have him skating with us.”

  They’d all been shocked when the Cats had shown Tru the door during the off-season instead of re-upping his contract. Hardshaw and Macarty had favored the Canucks’ stud defenseman, Troy Davidson, over the second-oldest Jelinek brother. Unfortunately, Davidson hadn’t yet shown the form he’d had in Vancouver, which had made Tru’s absence more difficult.

  “Yeah.” Jake sighed. “At least he’s enjoying Denver. He’s slotted into the team well and the Avs are doing better than anyone expected.”

  “That’s because we taught him everything he knows,” Ike said loftily.

  They all laughed as they headed back into the hospital room.

  Despite his best intentions, Ike’s heart squeezed when he saw Tracy cradling baby Joe. Her expression was soft and adoring as she murmured nonsense to her drowsy nephew. The maternal look suited her. He couldn’t understand why she preferred contracts and clients over a child of her own.

  Perhaps Ike was projecting his own feelings. His career wouldn’t last forever. He hadn’t considered what he’d do once it was over; he didn’t like to think about it. That was tempting fate. The hockey gods had a funny way of knocking you on your ass when you thought everything was set. But as retirement loomed closer, he’d begun to feel frustrated that his personal life had stalled. It wasn’t as if he were a monk—he’d dated lots of nice women. Seeing Jake and Tru so happy in their marriages had made Ike question why he hadn’t been able to find anyone special.

  The answer was simple. He hadn’t thought seriously about a woman since Tracy. Because of Tracy. Even now, four years later, the shock of her turning him down flat ricocheted through him. He hadn’t even proposed, just asked if she wanted to move in with him.

  “Your turn. I have to go.”

  Ike blinked as Tracy handed him the baby. The little dude snuggled into Ike’s neck; the scent of baby powder laced with a hint of Tracy’s perfume assailed him.

  “Leaving so soon?” He hadn’t meant the question to sound accusing.

  “I need to phone my mum and let her know she has a grandchild.” Tracy’s icy tone was the stinging rebuke her words weren’t.

  “Right. Sure.” He stumbled over his words, but she’d already turned away and was saying goodbye to the others.

  Crap. Why was it that when he was around her he couldn’t open his mouth without sticking his big foot in it?

  Tracy didn’t acknowledge him again before leaving. Not even when she gently caressed baby Joe’s head. Ike didn’t need his kid brother’s censuring look to know he’d screwed up again.

  Maybe it was time to admit he couldn’t handle being around her. He should treat her like any other problem. Do them both a favor and steer clear of her. Out of sight, out of mind. That might even open the door for him to find someone who was better suited to him.

  Pleased with his solution, he gently rubbed Joe’s back. The loud burp that erupted from the little guy startled them both. The timing was coincidental, not a commentary on his plan, Ike reassured himself, even as he hoped the kid wasn’t right.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?” Tracy muttered as she spooned food into two cat bowls.

  Moppet, the more sociable of her black cats, replied with a meow.

  Poppet licked a white-tipped paw and washed one of her pricked ears.

  “It’s crazy,” Tracy continued. “I can handle any other man, except Ike bloody Jelinek. Whenever I’m near him, he winds me up and I do something stupid.”

  With impeccable timing, Moppet hacked up a hairball.

  Tracy laughed as she cleaned up the mess. “Maybe tossing coffee on him was a tiny overreaction.” She held up her thumb and forefinger to show a small gap. “But it annoys me that there’s one rule for his career and one for mine.”

 
Despite Tracy’s determination to marry someone completely different from her father, she’d ended up with his twin—only with a more polished veneer. She’d left home at eighteen and headed to Manchester, where she’d waitressed by day and studied business by night. Hank Turner, a visiting academic from New Jersey, had been one of her lecturers. She’d fallen hard for the charming American, marrying him within weeks. It had taken much longer to realize her mistake.

  At first, Tracy had overlooked the warning signs, attributing them to the difficulties of adjusting to life in New Jersey. It had taken Hank’s affair to rip the blinkers from her eyes. To Tracy’s chagrin, she realized she’d become exactly the kind of acquiescent wife she despised.

  Poppet head-butted Tracy’s ankle, reminding her to hurry up with her food.

  Tracy put the bowls down and the two felines dived right in. “Why do I still let Ike get to me? Why can’t I ignore him?”

  Because he was a hard man to ignore. His presence, even when he wasn’t speaking to her, sent that delicious hum through her. The problem was he always did something to turn that hum into a jarring buzz.

  When they’d first met, his charm had swept her off her feet. His gentlemanly manners and serious nature were rare in a business full of inflated egos. And their physical connection had sizzled. A touch, a look, a smile and they’d been all over each other like sex-starved teenagers. Ike had treated her as if she were special, both in bed and out. It was only later that his courtliness had begun to feel controlling. Caring suggestions had become polite demands. Compliments about her work had sounded more like criticism.

  When Ike had asked her to give up her house and move in with him, she’d panicked. First her house, then her business, then her self-respect. Terrified that history would repeat itself, she’d refused. That final argument had been brutal; the bitter words they’d each said were still a thorn in her heart.

  Trying to escape the memories, Tracy went upstairs to her office on the middle floor of her Victorian and sought refuge in work. But as she waited for her computer to power up, her mind went back to Ike.

  That he still couldn’t understand that her company was more than just an income for her had confirmed that she’d made the right decision. Making Your Move might not keep her warm at night, but it enabled her to sleep soundly—secure in the knowledge that the only person who controlled her life was her. Good or bad, success or failure, she made the decisions. When Making Your Move was number one, she’d have proved to everyone who’d doubted her that she was strong and capable on her own.

  Speaking of which, the sooner she got the paperwork to Glen, the quicker he’d sign. Tracy pulled up the Bridgers’ proposal document and began to make the changes she and Glen had discussed.

  She’d just emailed him the revised copy when she looked at the clock and saw that it was already after eleven. Surprised it was so late, Tracy suddenly remembered her mother.

  Damn it. Tracy had been so wrapped up in work, she’d forgotten to call her. She grabbed the phone.

  Doris Hayden answered after a dozen rings. “Do you know what time it is?”

  Tracy puffed out a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry, Mum. But...”

  “You know I don’t like calls after ten.”

  Actually, that had been one of Tracy’s father’s edicts. Despite his death eighteen months ago, her mother still clung resolutely to every blasted one. Ordinarily, Tracy would have challenged this, but she wasn’t in the mood for a row that would only rehash ground they’d covered many times before.

  Especially as she’d already had one of those tonight.

  “Congratulations,” she said with determined brightness. “You’re a grandma again.”

  “Maggie had her baby, then?”

  “A gorgeous boy.” She filled her mother in on the details. “Jake took loads of pictures and he said he’ll email them to everyone in the morning.” Before her mother could complain that she didn’t know how to use the computer—Dominic Hayden hadn’t seen the point in his wife learning—Tracy added, “I’ll print them off for you and pop them in the post.”

  “I won’t get them for a week.” Her mother sniffed. “I don’t know why you girls have to live so far away.”

  No. She never had.

  Tracy tried to head off the waterworks she knew were coming next. “Both Jake and I offered to pay for you to come over here. I can still book you a flight.”

  “I don’t like to fly by myself. Can’t you come over and get me?”

  Tracy gritted her teeth at the pathetic tone. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get away right now. We can organize a car to pick you up at home and someone to help you through the airport. Then we’ll meet you when you land.”

  “I couldn’t. It’s too much on my own. And Maggie and Jake won’t be able to fly to England until the summer. I’ll miss out on seeing Emily and Joe for so long.”

  That’s when the tears started, her mother’s usual ploy for getting her own way.

  Tracy held firm, even when Doris Hayden hit all the guilt-trip hot buttons. Tracy was emotionally wrung out by the time her mother gave up and hung up on her.

  Unfortunately, she was also too wired to sleep. Tracy had a glass of wine, hoping that would help her relax, then went to bed. She tossed and turned for several hours. Finally, she admitted defeat and rose. After making a large cup of tea, she went back to her office and focused on the one thing she knew would settle her mind—work.

  * * *

  IKE WASN’T AS superstitious as most goaltenders, but he knew it was a bad sign to fall flat on his ass in the pre-game warm-up before he’d even made it to his crease.

  He jumped up and made a show of poking at a nick in the ice, then called for a water bottle from the bench.

  Kenny brought one for him, laughing. “I was expecting a freaking crater the way you wiped out, bro.”

  Ike let his brother’s comment slide. He knew Kenny was excited to be back in the lineup after having been a healthy scratch again for the past week’s games. Kenny had only played once—the night after baby Joe’s birth—before Coach had benched him again. The rationale had been that they’d needed one of the tougher fourth-line guys in Kenny’s place for the harder, more physical games, against those opponents. Facing a younger, faster team tonight, Kenny had earned his place back.

  “Do you need salt to throw over your shoulder?” Jean-Baptiste Larocque added as he joined them. “We don’t want to start the game with bad mojo.”

  Ike flicked the bird at the star forward, then poured water into the divot. “Nah. No bad luck involved. I must have caught it funny.”

  Jake skated over and tossed Ike a puck to smooth off the newly frozen patch of ice. His blue eyes were rimmed with red and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

  “Has your son been keeping you from your beauty sleep again, Bad Boy?” he said, to deflect the attention from himself.

  Jake’s glare didn’t have its normal cutting edge. “Yeah. I’m thinking of getting a hotel room so I can get my pre-game nap in peace.”

  “You can always crash at my place, bro.”

  “Thanks.” Jake leaned on his stick. “I may take you up on that. Especially when we play Detroit and Toronto.”

  Both teams were riding winning streaks and had strong road records. The way the Cats had been playing lately, they’d need to bring their A-game to have a chance of getting any points off either team.

  “Anytime. There’s a bed with your name on it.”

  “As long as you don’t take a nap while you’re on the ice, Bad Boy.” JB punched Jake in the arm and skated off.

  The captain, Scotty Matthews, frowned at them as he glided past. “Stop flapping your gums and get some action going. The Oilers are going to come out hard tonight.”

  The Islanders had handed Edmonton their butts last
night in a game the Oilers should have won. Edmonton’s players would be looking to redeem themselves, which wasn’t good news for the Cats, who desperately needed the win.

  Ike tossed Kenny the water bottle, then kicked the puck at his net. “Just fixing the ice to make sure no one else falls on their ass.”

  “Aye aye, captain.” Kenny saluted Matthews, before dumping the bottle at the bench and joining the rest of the guys skating drills.

  Scotty skated back around, then stopped. “So, do you need to sacrifice a chicken or something to ward off the bad luck after your tumble?”

  Ike rolled his eyes. “Not this time.”

  Scotty slapped him on the back. “You sure? We could razz that new kid on the equipment team.”

  They both laughed. For a moment, Scotty looked like the young rookie he’d once been, rather than the grizzled veteran he was now. As Scotty skated off, Ike knew he’d miss him when the captain retired at the end of the season.

  Retirement. Even though it loomed on the horizon at some point for Ike—sooner rather than later—it wasn’t something he looked forward to.

  Pushing that thought from his mind, Ike warmed up, easing the stiffness from his muscles as he prepared to face shots. He practiced sliding between the pipes, right side, then left side, then right again. He’d need to be on his guard for fast break-outs tonight, especially with the speedy Oilers’ wingers.

  He put his fall out of his mind and focused on seeing the puck as it began to fly at him from all angles, courtesy of his teammates. Strangely, after a dozen shots, he still didn’t feel on his game. Biscuits sailed past him when he should have stopped them.

  He frowned, holding up his glove to stop the drill, and took a long drink from his water bottle. After squirting water over his face, he got back into position and nodded to start the routine again.