Power Play (Crimson Romance)

by Nan Comargue

  A peal of classical music caused her to search out the purse she’d dropped on Cahal’s leather couch, scrambling her cell phone from its depths. She’d turned it on only minutes ago, aware she couldn’t hide indefinitely.

  “Lila?” Jack’s familiar voice held an odd mixture of relief and anger. “Where have you been for the past two days?”

  First at her lawyer’s office and now back under her husband’s roof? Those words weren’t easy to say, on top of being perfectly ludicrous.

  She settled on, “It’s a long story.” Even longer beneath Cahal’s mocking eyes. Lila turned her back on him. “Can we meet somewhere and talk?”

  “I’ve got practice tonight.” He sounded aggrieved.

  “How about afterwards?” Her dark eyes were on Cahal, aware that he could hear every word of their conversation due to the other man’s raised voice. She added, “We’ve really got to talk.”

  Jack’s laugh was hollow. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  She swallowed. “It’s not.”

  A short pause followed before he said, “Tell me now.”

  “I can’t,” she said. Not if she wanted to be free to be with him.

  “Where are you?” Jack demanded. “I’ll skip practice and come get you.”

  “No, no, don’t do that,” she protested. “It’s just the kind of thing that’ll put you in Coach’s black books.”

  “I don’t care,” he insisted. “I’m worried about you. My career doesn’t come before you.”

  The clear emphasis made Cahal turn and walk over to the glass wall. As dark as it was now early in the evening, little could be seen of the lake outside except for the shimmering smooth surface beneath pale moonlight and the occasional fleeting path of a boat.

  “I’ll meet you at the arena after practice,” she said into the phone. “I’ll tell you … what I can.”

  “Lila,” he hesitated for a fraction of a second, “I love you.”

  Though she closed her eyes, silent tears slipped out. “I know.”

  Cahal didn’t turn. “You can’t tell him anything about our reconciliation without violating our contract.”

  Flipping the tiny silver phone shut, Lila brushed away the tears with the back of her hand. “I know that, too.”

  His broad back was rigid. “So what are you going to say?”

  She tossed the cell phone back into her purse and flopped down on the couch next to it. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? You’re probably dying to.”

  He came away from the windows, his movements powerful yet supple, breathtaking in such a large man. He sat a careful distance from her, his denim-covered thighs spread and his strong hands dangling between them. His hands were beautiful, swift and expert, and the remembered touch of them made her shiver. This was the last thing she wanted, to rekindle a fire from the ashes.

  Silver eyes traced her features. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Lila.”

  She laughed unsteadily. “Since when do you have to try?”

  He ought to know better; his life was governed by impulse and instinct. The worst infractions were often committed without any intention to injure but the results were still catastrophic.

  “This is for the best, Lila.”

  “Dammit!” She leaped to her feet. “You think you know it all, don’t you?”

  He rose, too, but she’d never been intimidated by his size.

  “No, I don’t think I know it all. I just happen to know you.”

  “I’ve changed,” she insisted.

  “You still love me,” he said. His voice was supremely confident, as if he was stating a naked truth.

  “Loved,” she corrected. “Past tense.”

  His mouth curved but not in a smile. “You never stop loving that first one.”

  First what? First love or first lover? Perhaps she had been his first love but she doubted that she was his first lover. Certainly she wasn’t the last.

  “Love,” she repeated the word with a bitterness that surprised even her. “It’s readily offered as a solution when so often it’s the source of the problem.”

  Cahal thrust his hands in his pockets. “Are you telling me you don’t believe in love?”

  Lila frowned. “I believe in trust and security.”

  “And love comes after these?”

  She wasn’t certain about that but she knew what she had to say to shut him up.

  “For me, yes.”

  He freed his hands then he pushed them through his flaxen hair. “I can give you those things, Lila. If you still believe I cheated — ”

  “I don’t believe it,” she cut in. “I know it.”

  She had proof. Evidence. Details.

  “And your source is unimpeachable?”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “Cahal, I’ve told you before. I know you entertained women in your hotel suite while you were on the road. I know it. When you deny the truth, it just makes it worse.”

  “What truth do you know of?” His voice was contemptuous. “I’ve never had a woman in my hotel room. Ever. It’s against the team rules and it’s against my moral values.”

  His moral values! She couldn’t hold back a snort. Yet he was so adamant. So very believable.

  Stubbornly, she’d wanted him to admit the truth before she showed him her proof but he never could. She realized that now.

  Pulling out her phone, she said, “I know you had a blond woman in your hotel room in Los Angeles. She came around eleven and she left after midnight. Here is the proof you wanted.”

  Turning her screen toward him, she displayed the first photograph of the woman’s back entering the hotel room, the room number displayed prominently on the opening door, with no more than a sliver of her husband’s face beyond. The time stamp on the photograph showed that it was 10:56 P.M. Silently, she turned to the next photograph. 12:38 A.M. The room number was the same. Cahal’s face was plain in the opened doorway as he showed the woman off, his head bent down toward hers as if they had just kissed.

  He took a deep breath and blew it out in frustration. “Anyone is capable of lies if they have the right motivation.”

  He wasn’t denying it!

  “There’s an innocent explanation, Lila. That woman — Carrie Jones — works for my agent.”

  “Convenient,” she said.

  His motives were all too transparent. Good publicity made their marriage necessary to his public image and a last-minute reconciliation before their divorce — a true one — would provide priceless press. On a personal level, he had kept her the perfect docile wife for a long while and perhaps he thought that state was again obtainable.

  “Do you honestly think Victoria is the first woman to chase after me?” he asked. “Even knowing that I was married doesn’t stop some people. But this woman was there for truly innocent reasons.”

  That word again! Innocent. There was nothing innocent about him. He lied until he was found out, then he lied some more.

  “It’s a problem,” he said. “But I only point it out to show you that anyone who tells you that I was unfaithful might have another motive — to ruin our marriage. Have you even questioned why someone was watching and taking pictures of my hotel room?”

  “Because they couldn’t have you?” she asked sweetly. She knew that one of his teammates had taken the pictures as a joke, then sent it to Chris, who sent it on to her. As far as she knew, the whole league knew about her husband’s infidelity before she did.

  A corner of his mouth jerked upwards. “You must find that unbelievable. When did you stop wanting me? Before or after that expensive university education?”

  Close to a violent reaction, Lila spun around so that his contemptuous face no longer filled her vision. “Go to hell, Cahal. Just go to hell and leave me alone.”

  “No chance,” his raspy voice shot over her shoulder. “If I’m going to hell, I’ll make sure you’re there to keep me company.”

  At the moment she had no choice except to believe him. He’
d shown that he wasn’t a man to make idle threats.

  “Your idea of marriage is more like indentured servitude,” Lila muttered.

  He smiled. “And I was going to offer you a ride down to the arena to meet your boy toy. How many slave masters would be so considerate?”

  “He’s not my boy toy,” she delayed. How would it look to Jack if she showed up with her husband? “Jack is my boyfriend.”

  “We could argue your right to have a boyfriend while you and I are still lawfully married. A lot can occur in two months.”

  “Miracles are rare,” Lila replied, coming to a decision. Between the cold and Cahal, Cahal won by a slim margin. “We’d better get going or you’ll be late for practice.”

  “Oh no!” His features formed into an expression of mock terror. “I wouldn’t want to end up in Coach’s black books.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Before she could reconsider the cold bus ride, Cahal swept up his car keys and jangled them noisily. “Coming?”

  Music from a satellite radio station filled the void of silence during the short trip. As short as the ride was, it was enough time for Lila to build up a dread of seeing her boyfriend again. Without a proper explanation, the reasons for her apparent reconciliation with her husband were baffling.

  The arena parking lot held few cars, allowing Cahal to ease his sports car into a space close to the entrance. This time there was no crush of reporters eager for gossip. No one from the local media was even aware of the fact that the biggest bombshell in sports celebrity news had already quietly taken place on the preceding day. She mused that perhaps after this the local sports pages would start posting reporters outside of the offices of prominent city divorce lawyers, awaiting the next hot scoop.

  Lila stood by the entrance while Cahal retrieved his equipment from the trunk. The heavy bag was so much a part of his identity that she ceased to see it. In her experience, all men were hockey players and all men were untrustworthy. Except for Jack.

  Jack.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her husband’s low question forced her to glance up to meet his eyes, shaded a dark pewter with concern. Artificial concern, Lila amended. If he cared about her, he wouldn’t have manipulated them into their present position.

  “I’m fine,” she answered.

  “You look pale,” he observed. “Are you sure this is the best time for this? You’ve just moved, uprooting yourself from the life you’ve known for the past twelve months. You can talk to Jarrett tomorrow or next week.”

  Ignoring his perfectly reasonable suggestion, Lila pointed out, “By then the news of our reconciliation will be in all the papers in the city. I can’t let him face that without at least a warning.”

  Her husband shrugged one broad shoulder. “Suit yourself.”

  His tall figure disappeared into the bowels of the arena while she found her way to the bleachers where the only other occupants of the building were gathered. The group consisted of coaches and assistants, all of whom looked up curiously as she approached. One face lit up with recognition.

  “Lila Wallace! What are you doing here?”

  Lila smiled at the squat man, a former assistant coach from the Chicago bench. “I live in Toronto,” she replied, submitting to an awkward hug. “I could ask you the same thing, Harry.”

  “I got a job up here,” Harry Cole told her. “Following your hubby. Or should I say … ”

  Noting the older man’s sudden embarrassment, she figured it was as good a time as any to begin spreading the pre-approved story.

  “It’s all right, Harry. Cahal and I are back together.”

  The man’s smile was both relieved and knowing. “I suspected something of the kind was in the works when your husband began agitating for that trade. As far as I knew the only connection he had up here was you.”

  For a moment she stared. “Both of Cahal’s parents live a few hours out of the city,” she finally managed to say.

  The other man grinned. “And I’m sure he moved to Toronto to be close to his folks. Well, I’m glad it worked out, Lila. You’ve got a good man there and he deserves to be happy.”

  What about what she deserved? Did she deserve to be alone and miserable, to be lied to and cheated on for years? She said nothing as Harry drew away, called to the ice by a shout.

  The players were just getting warmed up, sprawled out on the ice stretching or skating in lazy circles. Usually one of the first to hit the ice, Jack hadn’t arrived yet but Cahal’s tall figure was soon conspicuous, clad in the thick protective layers essential to goaltenders.

  “I knew you would have to show up eventually.”

  Lila’s head turned to meet the owner of the frosty voice and was surprised to find that it belonged to Cathy Monahan.

  “Hello, Cathy. What are you doing here? I thought you hated watching practice.”

  The blonde woman grimaced as she plunked down in the seat beside Lila. “It’s not my first choice for entertainment but I’ve been forced to come for the past few weeks, hoping to corner some of my absentee members.”

  Lila flushed as she recalled having skipped the last meeting of the Wives and Girlfriends.

  “We need your help for the Christmas party,” Cathy went on, referring to the annual charitable event where fans paid dearly for the opportunity to dine with their favorite players and bid on hockey merchandise. “There’s only a month left and positions are going swiftly but you’re lucky since I saved you a good one. I heard what a great job you did in Chicago.”

  The promise of a good position in the party committee sounded ominous. After only a handful of meetings, Lila knew that the other women avoided being assigned tasks by Cathy, who was noted for being difficult to please.

  “I built up connections in Chicago,” Lila was forced to point out, “doing publicity and so on. It’s not the same in Toronto. You would be a far better position to do what has to be done.”

  The other woman laughed as she straightened in her seat. “I don’t intend to offer you my job, dear. I’ve been organizing the Christmas party for the past three years.”

  Lila turned again to watch the skaters. “Then why do you need me?”

  Cathy Monahan altered her tone. “Your ideas are terrific. I heard that Chicago broke all the records for annual contributions when you organized that player bachelor auction.”

  “It was good publicity,” Lila agreed, a reminiscent smile breaking across her face. “One of the players, Greg Anderson, ended up married to the woman who placed the highest bid for him. She was a surgeon at the local hospital.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of buzz we need to generate,” the blonde woman enthused. “Maybe not a bachelor auction since there aren’t too many bachelors left on our team but perhaps another kind of auction. Win a day of hockey with your favorite player or dinner with your favorite star.”

  Lila didn’t point out that such prizes were not altogether uncommon, which was why she had chosen the unique prize of a date with a bachelor player. A group of eager female bidders was a sight to see, with some younger members of the crowd waving stacks of their parents’ money for the chance at private time with their dream date.

  “What about a pin-up calendar with the players in racy poses? It works for the firefighters. Or merchandise featuring the players at home with their families. That would be perfect for Christmas and some of the wives are very photogenic. You and Nadia, for a start.”

  Cathy pulled out a small notebook and began making rapid notes. “Those are great ideas, Lila, but don’t forget yourself. I’ll bet you take good pictures and Jack would be thrilled to pose next to you. Make it official and all that.”

  The other woman’s words forced Lila to swallow hard as the figures on the ice surface blurred. Thankfully, Cathy didn’t notice.

  “Now, about that job I’ve got planned for you.”

  The blonde woman prattled on but Lila was no longer listening.

  Jack Jarrett had just taken the ice a
nd his path took him straight to Cahal’s net. It was too far to tell what the men were saying. Other skaters came to a halt as Jack’s voice lifted above the general din and even Cathy Monahan stopped talking.

  “Isn’t that your hus … uh … boyfriend?”

  Lila was already skipping over the rows of benches as she scrambled down to the ice. Leaning over the boards, she had to push her head between the elbows of a pair of players who were resting and watching the situation unfold. The two men across the ice were facing off, Jack’s face bright red beneath his helmet and Cahal’s paler than normal. Even from a distance it was obvious that the defenseman was the aggressor, coming nose to nose with the taller man several times yet the goaltender backed off each time, sliding back to put a few inches between the two.

  “Can Wallace fight?” One of the nearby players asked beneath his breath. “From the way he’s backing down, it doesn’t look like it.”

  “Oh, he can fight,” his companion stated. “I was on the ice when he nearly took Trevor Collins’ head off. It was the final game of the series and Collins kept crowding the crease.”

  “I still put my money on Jarrett.”

  “I’ll take that bet.”

  Gloved hands met inches from Lila’s face, sealing the wager. She wanted to yell at them to stop behaving like fools and intervene, but the players would be the first to tell her that such diplomacy wasn’t a part of their job description and in fact could hurt their reputations. The only action worse than backing down from a fight was forcing another man to back down from one.

  Jerking her attention to the far ice, Lila saw the two men circling each other. Neither pair of hands were raised, yet there was anticipation in every lazy step and in the collectively held breath of all watching.

  “Hey! Hey, what’s going on here?” The assistant coach’s quick stride brought him to a stop between the two men. “Wallace, you’re supposed to be practicing poke checks. Jarrett, you’re not playing tomorrow so you can get undressed and head home.”

  Jack’s mouth fell open. “Wh — ”

  “You heard me.” The smaller man’s voice rang out strong if a little unsteadily. “Hit the road, Jarrett. I’ll see you tomorrow.”