“All right,” Janna wearily agreed as Theresa clapped with delight. “But on one condition.”
“What?”
“A, you behave yourself, and B, we are out of there by two at the latest.”
“Agreed. And since that’s two conditions, I have one, too.”
“What?” Janna asked suspiciously.
“When we get there, you have to tell me which of the guys looks best naked.”
Janna rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t know. They all look the same.”
Which was a lie. She knew damn well who looked best, but there was no way she was going to tell Theresa, just in case he was there.
Ty was at the bar getting himself a Guinness when he heard a couple of the guys behind him say her name, telling her they were glad she’d finally decided to join them. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, and sure enough, there she was, looking damn cute in jeans and a simple, white, button-down blouse. She was with a tall, olive-skinned woman who looked like a kid in a candy store.
His heart sank. He’d come here to unwind with his boys after a rough game, not fend off the publicist from hell. He wished she’d consider where she was and give it a rest for once. She had to know that one mention of PR or Kidco would find him draining his glass and heading back out into the chilly night. He hoped, then, that she had come for the same reason he did, to relax with friends.
He returned to where he was sitting with Abby and Kevin Gill as Janna circulated amongst the other tables, introducing her friend to his players. His guys were gracious, welcoming. It made him feel proud. Of course, the friend was attractive, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was up. But the Chapter House tended to be a friendly place, which was why they all hung out there. Ty knew some people might think it was a real hole-in-the-wall, with its crummy old jukebox, dirt-caked windows, sawdust-covered floors and rickety old tables, but to his mind that was part of its charm. The wizened old bartender had been there forever and had a cache of entertaining tales about his days in the merchant marines that could keep you there all night. The atmosphere was low-key and the clientele were just regular working people, none of whom cared who the Blades were. It was a well-kept secret, a place where they could drink their beer in peace. Occasionally fans would show up, but Ty’s feeling was that if they were clever enough to figure out where the team hung out, then they deserved to share a drink or two with them.
With the jukebox blasting some old hit from the ’60s—Ty thought maybe it was “American Woman” but he wasn’t sure—Janna and her sidekick eventually found their way to his table.
“Abby, Kevin, Ty—” Her eyes held his for a split second longer than he would have liked—“I want you to meet my friend Theresa.”
Kevin, ever friendly, raised his mug in salute. “Nice to meet you.”
Ty echoed the sentiment, as did Abby.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Theresa replied.
“Would you like to sit down?” Abby offered graciously.
Smiling, Janna and Theresa pulled up two chairs and sat down. They weren’t seated for five seconds before Michael Dante, the team’s third line winger, sauntered over from the table he was sharing with Blades defenseman Burke Dalton and the “Russian Rocket,” Alexei Lubov. Dante smiled politely and offered to buy Theresa a drink. His two front teeth were missing. She smiled back, but declined.
“Just one drink,” Dante urged, friendly. “We don’t bite.”
“Maybe that’s part of the problem,” Ty quipped under his breath. Didn’t this Theresa realize that she was surrounded by men who, between them, had more false teeth than the residents of a nursing home? Janna scowled at him while Theresa appeared not to have heard. Realizing that she wasn’t going to change her mind, Dante shrugged affably and left. The scene repeated itself when his teammate, Burke Dalton, approached with the same question. This time Theresa accepted, and with a quick glance at Janna to make sure it was okay, followed Dalton back to his table.
“Well, that was interesting,” observed Abby.
“That’s one word for it,” Janna muttered, a small frown creasing her brow.
“Wonder what Burke had that Michael didn’t,” Kevin mused aloud.
“Teeth,” Janna answered grimly, looking nervously in Theresa’s direction.
She’s worried about having to baby-sit her friend, Ty thought. And now he was worried about having to baby-sit her, about sitting here and wanting to make sure she had a good time. Why the hell did she have to come?
“Can I get you something to drink?” Ty heard Kevin offering, which annoyed him. He was going to ask the same thing, and now Kevin had beaten him to the punch! Make up your mind, Gallagher. Do you want her to stay and have a beer with you or do you want her to go?
Janna looked grateful. “A Bud Light would be fine, thanks Kevin.”
“I’ll get it.” Ty jumped to his feet. He could feel the three of them watching him with raised brows as he pushed back from the table and headed toward the bar, but he didn’t care. Ordering Janna a drink would give him time to figure out how he wanted to handle being in a social setting with her. Up until now, he’d been doing a great job of avoiding her, pushing her out of his thoughts. He had to keep a clear head here. He placed his order and surreptitiously glanced back at the table, where she was chatting away with Kevin and Abby. When she was happy, her whole face lit up, the cornflower blue eyes crackling with animation. Those big eyes sometimes had a sense of waif-like vulnerability that made you want to protect her. Which is why he’d jumped on Lubov on the train. Had nothing to do with wanting to ensure Lex kept the hell away from her. It was all about protection. Yeah, right.
Order filled, he returned to the table and handed her the beer.
“What do I owe you?” she asked.
Ty waved his hand dismissively. “It’s on the house.” He took a sip of his Guinness, the full-bodied taste warming his throat and belly. Nothing better than a nice dark beer after a backbreaking night out on the ice. “So what did I miss?”
Kevin rose, extending a hand to his wife. “Abby and I are going to dance. Janna can fill you in.”
You’re gonna pay for this, Ty’s glare told Kevin, whose only response was a huge grin as he gently put his hand in the small of his wife’s back and guided her out onto the tiny, makeshift dance floor.
“So,” said Ty, edging his chair an inch or two closer to Janna’s so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice to be heard. “How’s your brother?”
The blue eyes registered surprise, then admiration. “He’s fine. He talks about what you did for him incessantly.”
Ty shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “He seemed like a nice kid.”
“He is.”
Her eyes darted down to the floor, over to the wall, looking anywhere but at him. She was nervous, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. Jesus Christ, she’d seen him naked. What could be so hard about talking to him? Worse, it was making him nervous. He took a long pull at his beer, then cocked his head in the direction of Theresa.
“Your friend—is she a puck bunny?”
Janna recoiled, offended. “What? Why? Are you interested?”
Ty laughed, unsure what to make of the testiness in her voice. “No. She’s not my type.”
“What is your type?” she asked, looking directly at him.
“Well,” Ty began slowly, rolling his beer mug between his hands, “I guess that’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Her glance darted away again then, and he used the awkward pause between them to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Look, I didn’t mean to insult your friend. It’s just that when she walked in here, her eyes glazed over like she’d hit the jackpot.”
“Theresa’s not a puck bunny. She’s a hopeless romantic.”
“Meaning?”
“She’s imagining every guy in this room standing up at the altar in a tux while she glides down the aisle to the strains of ‘The Wedding
March.’ ”
Ty laughed. “So she’s husband hunting, huh?”
“Continually on the look out for ‘The One.’ ”
“Well, she’s sure as hell barking up the wrong tree with that trio. Except maybe for Dante, who she seems to be trying hard to ignore.”
“Poor Michael Dante,” Janna lamented. “He seems so nice.”
“Isn’t that what women want?” Ty queried edgily. “A man who’s ‘nice’?”
“Nice is good. Remembering to wear your bridge in public is even better.” They both laughed at that.
“What does she do?” Ty asked, determined to keep the conversation on Theresa.
“She’s a publicist at The Wild and the Free. We used to work together.”
“Ah.” He’d go to his grave before he’d tell her that he, like half the guys in the NHL, was totally addicted to that soap. Lots of jocks were. It was a way to pass the time when you on were on the road, stuck in a hotel room with nothing to do. He resisted the urge to ask if the actress who played Carmen was really a bitch and asked another question instead, one which interested him even more. “How did you get into publicity? Was it something you always wanted to do?”
Janna peered down into her drink. When she looked back up at him, he was taken aback to see her eyes were sad. “Actually, what I really wanted to do was start my own business.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“It’s complicated,” she replied evasively. “I’m not sure I can explain.”
“Try.”
Her eyes flashed then, which is what he’d hoped for. He hated the melancholia that had descended upon her so fast. She took another sip of her beer, thoughtful. Her eyes continued to have a hard time meeting his.
“I didn’t pursue being an entrepreneur because I didn’t have what it took.”
“Who told you that?”
No answer.
“C’mon, who told you that?” he repeated. “I want to know.”
Still, she kept silent.
“Oh, I see.” He leaned back in his chair. “You told yourself that.”
That got her attention. Whereas a minute before it seemed as if the tacky picture of dogs playing poker on the opposite wall held more interest for her than his face, now she was glaring at him. “Did you even try to start your own business?” he kept on. “Or did you throw in the towel the first time you had to sit down and write a business plan?”
“I threw in the towel after the hundredth time I sat down to write one, okay?” she snapped.
He ignored her. “Did you really not know what you were doing? Or is that something you’ve convinced yourself of to help you deal with not hanging in there and going for it?”
Janna looked stunned. “What?”
“C’mon, Janna,” he said cajolingly. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, friendly. “Be honest with yourself for one minute. Did you really think you weren’t capable of starting up a business?”
She swallowed. “No.”
“Then why didn’t you try?” He could feel a fit of Captain Gallagher’s famous esteem boosting coming on, but couldn’t stop himself. He hated seeing her this way. “Because it was too hard? Anything worth having requires a struggle. You know that, right? Christ, you don’t give up trying to get me to do Kidco’s bidding!”
“That’s different,” Janna insisted.
“No, it’s not. It’s the same damn principle of persistence.” He paused, carefully measuring out his words. “I really admire the way you do your job, you know.”
Janna snorted. “Right.”
“I mean it. I may not agree with your reasons for doing it, since you know I think PR is bull, but I respect the way you march into the locker room day after day and tell the team what’s what. Not everyone can do that, especially when it comes to hockey players. You should feel proud about how many of the guys have been willing to see things your way and cooperate on the PR stuff. It’s a testament to your feistiness and powers of persuasion—powers you could tap into if you decided to start your own business.”
Janna mumbled something and looked down. Gazing at her, he felt as if he was actually seeing her for the first time. That tiny terror who relentlessly pursued him around the locker room had been replaced by this delicate woman sitting here beside him, a woman who was afraid to go after what was rightfully hers and soar. He couldn’t believe it, which was proof of her steely determination. Apart from the first time they’d met and he’d nearly bitten her head off, he’d never have guessed in a million years that beneath her no-nonsense exterior, there lurked someone with serious esteem problems, someone whom he felt shouldn’t have such problems at all.
“Janna.” Her head was down again, fascinated by her beer. Carefully, oh so carefully so as not to startle or offend, he put his index finger beneath her chin and gently tilted her head up so he could see her eyes, which were now glistening with liquid. Shit. The last thing he’d wanted to do was make her cry. And of course, right on cue, Kevin and Abby were laughing their way back to the table.
“Hey, you two—”
Abby stopped short when she saw the anguished expression on Janna’s face and slid immediately into her seat, taking her hand.
“What did you do?” she hissed at Ty. Before Ty could roar back in self-defense, Janna jumped in.
“He didn’t do anything,” she reassured Abby. “We were discussing something very sad, that’s all.”
“You sure?” Abby asked suspiciously, her eyes still reprimanding Ty.
“Honestly,” said Janna.
Abby relaxed. “All right, then.” Her hand slid from Janna’s, reaching for her purse. “Kevin and I told the sitter we’d be home by twelve-thirty, so we’d better run.” She peered at Janna, concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Janna insisted.
Abby rose, pointing a finger at Ty. “She’s supposed to be having fun, not sitting here crying. Think you can manage that?”
Ty’s jaw clenched. “I’ll try.”
“Good.” Abby leaned over, kissing the side of Janna’s face. “We’ll see you soon.”
Again Ty’s eyes sought Kevin’s as he and his wife drifted from the table, but this time the message in them was different: Tell your wife I didn’t do anything! Kevin gave a small nod, seeming to understand.
Ty looked back to Janna, who had twisted around in her seat to again check on Theresa, who appeared to be reading palms for some of the guys. At least, that’s what Ty thought she was doing. If it was some bizarre courtship ritual, he didn’t want to know.
“She having fun?” he asked when Janna turned back around. She nodded. “I’m sorry I made you cry,” he murmured.
“No, no, it’s okay,” she replied with what seemed to him false breeziness. “What you said is the truth, and sometimes, as we all know, the truth hurts.”
His voice was a persuasive rumble. “You should do it, Janna. You should decide what kind of business you want to run and give it a try. If you don’t, you’ll hate yourself.”
She glanced away, clearly ill at ease. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re a leader. A winner. The concept of self doubt is alien to you.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sympathize. I can’t tell you how many of the guys on the team—guys who have made it into the NHL, for Chrissakes—lack confidence.”
“Really?”
“Hell, yeah. But they feel the fear and do it anyway—with a little help from me, of course, and the coaches. We all work hard to help them build up their esteem. And it pays off. But you gotta take that first step off the cliff; you have to have faith, you know what I’m saying?”
She frowned. “Can we change the subject, please? This pep talk is starting to depress me.”
“Just trying to help.” Since it was clear that any further discussion on the subject was off limits, he stood. “Would you like to dance?” Some slow, R and B tune had just kicked in on the jukebox—Percy Sledge’s “When A Man Loves A Wo
man”? He was so bad with these oldies, and it seemed the perfect deflection.
Janna hesitated a moment, weighing his offer. “No thanks.”
Ty was surprised to find himself feeling rejected. “C’mon,” he urged. “It’s three minutes of your life. It will cheer you up.”
“Okay,” Janna capitulated, still sounding unsure.
They made their way out to the dance floor, Ty well aware that all his teammates were nudging each other and turning to watch Hatfield dance with McCoy. Jesus, was he gonna catch hell for this on Monday.
Out on the floor, he extended his left hand to her, and she took it gracefully as her other hand came up to rest on his shoulder. He felt awkward putting his hand around her waist, but she didn’t resist, so he let it rest there, just above the small of her back. Careful not to bump into the other couples clinging to each other as they shuffled around the floor, he drew her closer. With that, they slowly began swaying in time to the music.
Ty was amazed at how natural it felt to hold her like this, and wondered if she felt the same way. He got his answer when she moved in closer to him, nestling her head on his chest. In contrast to the slow, sensual rhythm of the music, he could now hear his own heart pounding in his ears, rapid-fire and insistent. Could she hear it, too? He breathed slowly, deliberately, trying to keep one step ahead of the slow spread of heat beginning to simmer through his body. She was so tiny, perfect, like a little bird that needed shelter. Who needed him. As if reading his mind, she lifted her head from his chest and gazed up into his eyes. Neither of them said anything. Maybe, Ty thought, because nothing needs to be said. Or maybe because neither of them had the guts to. She lowered her head again, sighing, and they danced on.
The music ended, and the spell broke. For a split second, neither of them seemed to know what to do or who should do it first. They jerked apart awkwardly, Janna seeming to blink away the dreaminess he swore had been in her eyes only moments before. Regaining her senses, she was all business now.
“I better get Theresa home,” she said shakily, “before she proposes to Lex.”
Body Check Page 7