HIS GAME, HER RULES
“I can’t imagine waking up to this view every morning.”
“You can,” he says. “I won’t stop you.”
She swallows hard. He can be so tempting when he wants to be. She looks down at her plate, deciding to bite into her garlic bread before taking another drink.
“Hey, the offer never expires.” He picks up his glass, eyeing her deliciously.
Eileen wipes her lips with a napkin. Her heart is beating erratically. Why is he so alluring? When she took the coaching job she never suspected that she would fall for one of them; in fact, she was teased when the idea surfaced that they would be fighting over her. That, of course, wasn’t true; she kept her eyes on the job. But Ty just has a way of magically securing her neediness and leaving her wanting more. Is he testing her to see how far she’ll go? Did he really have a bet going on to see if she would sleep with him?
Without notice, Ty leans over his chair and gently takes her face in his hand, his lips closer, like they are calling for her. She jumps suddenly, realizing that he is about to kiss her. She is craving his affection, yet scared to lead him on. His hand cups the back of her neck, easing forward.
She closes her eyes, wanting so bad to kiss him back. “I can’t,” she whispers, anticipating his touch.
“It’s only a kiss,” he whispers back as his lips find hers . . .
HIS GAME, HER RULES
CHARLENE GROOME
eKENSINGTON BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
HIS GAME, HER RULES
Title Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Copyright Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to sincerely thank the people who helped me make this book possible.
My husband, Jared, for supporting my dreams and encouraging me to keep writing.
My amazing literary agent, Dawn Dowdle of Blue Ridge Literary Agency, for believing in me. It’s a pleasure to work with you.
My wonderful editor at Kensington Books, John Scognamiglio for your support and encouragement. I’m really proud to be working with you.
There are other people to thank for their hard work. Emily Lawrence, for your helpful suggestions and keen eye; my copyeditor, Erin Barker, for your attention to detail; production editor Ross Plotkin; and the design team for making such an attractive cover.
Thank you!
Chapter 1
Eileen Francis parallel parks her car on a side street at downtown’s most popular ice rink: the Dome, home of the Vancouver Warriors Hockey Club. She steps out of her car, trying to get her balance from her black Nine West sling-back sandals and digs into her oversized purse for change to feed the parking meter. She is sure she has quarters at the bottom of her purse, remembering that she tossed in a bunch of change this morning.
Eileen glances at her pearl-faced watch. “Come on, come on,” she mutters to herself as she continues to dig, shuffling her wallet around and sifting through scattered Tic Tacs and old receipts, hoping to find a quarter or two beneath the garbage.
She scrapes through the nickels and dimes and finds four quarters, which will only give her forty minutes. Surely the interview won’t take that long, will it? They know who she is and what she does. She brought along her skates and a change of clothes in case they ask to see her perform. She knows the interview in the boardroom won’t be as important as the interview on the ice, but that may have to be on another day, if she gets through the first round. Eileen inserts the last of her four quarters, and digs for more, hoping to make an hour. She was positive she had enough, but should have been more prepared for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Forty minutes will have to do. She turns quickly, steps to the side without looking up, and her shoulder makes contact with another person. The edge of her heel wobbles, throwing her off balance and causing her to fall backwards and hit the parking meter before a hand reaches out to grab her arm and keep her from falling to the ground.
“Are you okay?” the man asks.
She gasps a breath and moves her feet around to feel solid ground. “Yeah,” she answers in a daze, meeting the man’s blue eyes.
It’s a recognizable face; she’s seen this winsome grin before, although she can’t recall his name at the moment. He is wearing long beach shorts and T-shirt. His blond hair is messy, yet stylish. Flustered that she is short on time, and not as prepared as she should be for an interview—like making sure she has quarters for the meter—she uses her index finger to slide her thick-rimmed sunglasses up, waiting for the familiar-looking guy to walk past. However, to her surprise, he stops and asks, “Do you need some change?”
He reaches into his side pocket. His voice is warm and subtle, putting her more at ease. “How much do you need?” He pulls out some change and holds it toward her.
A little taken aback, Eileen smiles and says, “Thank you. My mom always told me not to take money from strangers.”
He laughs. “Money? I thought it was candy. Don’t take candy from strangers,” he says, still grinning, showing off a dimple on his left cheek.
“Candy, money—to a child it’s all the same, isn’t it?” she asks, trying hard not to get stuck at staring into his deep blue eyes. They are so bright and light that they remind her of glass marbles.
“I guess, eh?” he says. He picks out coins from his hand and feeds the meter. “How long do you need? You’ve got an hour and a half.”
“That’s perfect! Thank you,” she says and pulls out a five-dollar bill from her purse. “Here.” She gestures for him to take it.
“Ah, don’t worry about it.” He slides the leftover change into his pocket. “My name’s Ty,” he says and extends his hand.
Eileen can’t help the permanent smile on her face and she gives his hand a firm squeeze. His name comes to mind. “Caldwell,” she states. The star hockey player for the Warriors. He looks even better in person than on TV.
He nods.
“Eileen Francis,” she says in her businesslike tone. “Nice to meet you.” She adjusts her purse on her shoulder and stands tall, looking up slightly to meet his glorious eyes. “Thank you for the change.”
“No problem!” He’s still standing in front of her as though not yet finished with their conversation.
She glances at her watch and moves her purse strap over her shoulder, trying to distract herself from getting caught gawping at him. “Well, I have to go! I’m going to be late for my interview,” she says, not wanting to tell him she could be his new skating coach if all goes well today.
This could be a chance of a lifetime, a rare opportunity that just happened to come her way thanks to her uncle Gary, the senior adviser to the general manager of the Warriors. The phrase, “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know” enters her mind, but she knows that, to the surprise of most, she is just as talented as the guys who play professionally.
She pushes her sunglasses back as she peeks through the glass window
to see a woman with a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other, listening to her iPod as she cleans the floor. Eileen knocks on the door, hoping to get the woman’s attention, but the woman is in her own world, her black ponytail is swaying like a tree branch in the wind as she grooves to the music. Eileen knocks again and waves her arms to get the woman’s attention.
“Are you looking for the offices?” a male voice asks from behind her.
Eileen jumps with fright, and her glasses move down her nose. She looks behind her, relaxing her shoulders when she sees Ty Caldwell again. “I am.” She smiles back at him. “I can’t remember what door I’m supposed to go to.”
“I’ll show you another way in. Follow me,” he says with a wave.
She doesn’t remember her uncle telling her about a private entrance. Thankfully, Ty found her and will help her get in and point her to the right direction.
“Great!” She takes quick, small steps, afraid she’ll do a face-plant on the sidewalk if she’s not watching where she’s going. Eileen has never been late for anything; it’s one of her personal rules. If she’s going to be late, she can kiss this job good-bye.
“Are you interviewing for guest services?”
Eileen smirks.
“What’s funny about that?” he asks. “You wouldn’t be here for the skating coach position.” He laughs to himself.
She tightens her lips. Her eyebrows rise, causing her sunglasses to move.
He laughs again. “You’re kidding!” He stops in his tracks. His head tilts slightly and his mouth tugs at the side. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Why is it so funny? Your skating coach has taken a leave and they need a replacement until he can come back.”
“Are you sure you’re not confused with coach’s personal assistant?” he asks, beginning to laugh some more. “I know he’s looking for one.”
She lifts her oversized sunglasses off her face and pulls them back as a headband. “Hmmm, I don’t think I have those qualifications,” she says. “Or the patience.”
“As a skating coach?” he asks, opening the door for her.
She lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve never known a coach to have a personal assistant. Maybe you were confused with the owner?” she says, trying to offer him a better suggestion as they walk to the elevator and Ty presses the button.
“What qualifications do you have to teach professional hockey players?” he asks, sounding intrigued. “I’m curious. I didn’t know the Warriors hired outside . . . talent.”
She stands up straighter and looks at him. He sure knows how to rattle one’s confidence before an interview. “First off, I’m one of the most skilled female hockey players in the country.”
“Yeah, but still—”
“It’s because I’m a woman.”
“Well, it’s just, you know, a guy’s league—”
“Uh-huh.” She waits patiently for him to recover.
“I know we need a coach, but—” He pauses.
“I just happen to be female.” She keeps her head high. Why is she wasting her time convincing him? It’s management she needs to sell herself to. “But it’s the job I am interested in and a job I do quite well.”
They step into the elevator.
He laughs as the door closes. “You could have fooled me.”
“I’ve played nationally, as well as for the Olympics. Twice.”
“And that makes you a professional?”
She gives him a fake smile with the intent to kill him with kindness. “Yes. If women were playing in the NHL, I’d be playing.”
The elevator doors open. “Well, here we are,” Ty announces.
“If you want a skating tip: races are won or lost in the first three strides,” she says, gripping her heavy purse.
“Huh.” He nods.
“Thanks for the interview warm-up,” she says as she takes a step out into the hall. “And for your personal assistance showing me to the right floor.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Ty says with a forced grin.
She points her finger in the direction of where she thinks she should go.
He nods. “You want the last door down the hall,” he says, sticking his head out of the elevator and pointing. “Good luck. I might see you on the ice.” The elevator doors begin to close.
“Thanks,” she says, getting one last look at him before she’s on her own.
Eileen follows the bright blue carpet to the end of the hall, noticing a gallery of framed hockey scenes and players displayed throughout the top floor. Eileen can’t help but stop to take a quick look. How great would it be to work here? The thought is enough to weaken her knees. When she was a child, her dad and uncle would talk proudly about Canada’s national sport and her uncle, especially, would say he has the best job in the world. She admired him. How could she not want to be part of the greatest sport there is and have the chance to work alongside her uncle? Not that she would work directly with him, because his job is to scout for new talent and evaluate players, but it would be nice to be part of the same profession.
Eileen takes in a deep breath and then slowly opens the door, peeking inside and hoping it’s the right entrance and not some joke Ty is playing on her. She isn’t sure he can be trusted. There is something about him that doesn’t sit right; she knows that men in this league are all selfish and irresponsible because, in this country, they are put on pedestals and the fame goes to their heads. At least that was her experience with her ex-boyfriend.
“Hello. May I help you?” the receptionist asks as Eileen walks up to the desk.
“I’m here to see Gary Williams.”
The young woman with shoulder-length hair bats her light brown eyes. “You must be Eileen,” she says, her eyes suddenly shining.
Eileen smiles at the warm welcome. “Yes, I am.”
“I finally have a face to a name. Nice to meet you. I’ll let your uncle know you’re here.” She speaks softly into her headset. “He’ll be right out. You can have a seat while you wait if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” Eileen says and then walks away from the desk, letting her eyes drift around the room, admiring the memorabilia hanging on the walls. She glances at her watch—two minutes after nine. She’s late. She hopes they’re too busy to notice. She squeezes her hands together to contain the jitters and clenches her jaw as she thinks about the interview.
“Elle!” a voice yells out.
“Uncle Gary!” she exclaims and walks toward him, holding back from giving him the usual hug, but he makes the first move and wraps his arms around her. A quick squeeze relaxes her, and lets her know she has his support. “How was Arizona?”
“Hot!”
“Looks like you got some sun,” she says, eyeing his uneven graying strands, which look white against his leathery, tanned skin. Even his mustache is sprouting gray.
“Got some golf in,” he says, extending his arms and taking a pretend swing. “Our place was right beside a golf course. We had a great time. Your aunt is making arrangements to go back.”
Although Gary’s blue eyes are behind thin-rimmed glasses, their oval shape reminds Eileen of her mother’s. She beams at him and remembers her mom. The sweetness of her voice, her kind nature, and the love she had for her children has been irreplaceable. She misses her parents. She sniffs to clear her nose and blinks. This is the last place she would allow herself to be weepy. She throws back her shoulders and stands up straighter.
“You should come with us next time. We’ll do a family trip and I’ll get Keaton to bring some friends,” he says with a wink.
Eileen just smiles. She knows what her uncle is getting at. His son, Keaton Williams, plays for the Kings and he’d probably bring along some of his teammates to hang out with. There is no way Eileen is going to get involved with a hockey player. She did that once before and it was a big mistake.
“I’ll take you into the boardroom for our meeting and introduce you to the coach and owner; they’ll be sitting in on this meetin
g as well.”
“Okay,” she says and lets out a heavy breath. This is it. Time to impress. She follows his lead down the hall.
“They can’t wait to meet you. I’ve talked a lot about you. Remember, just be yourself,” Gary whispers and pats her on her shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll do great.”
“Me, nervous? Never.” She laughs, trying to hide her unsettled nerves. Do they genuinely want to work with Eileen or are they doing her uncle a favor?
Gary pats her on the shoulder again and swings open the boardroom door. Silence clouds the room as Eileen steps inside. She views their long faces and stern upper lips.
“This is Eileen Francis,” Gary says proudly, taking a side step. “Eileen, please have a seat.” He closes the door behind her. “I’ll introduce you. To my left is Ted Walker, the president and general manager of the Warriors. Rick Bissel, VP of hockey operations. Steve Morrow, the head coach . . . and Joe Smith, the assistant coach.”
They each nod in turn.
“Everyone, Eileen Francis,” he says with an upbeat demeanor.
“Thank you,” she says, making eye contact with each of them.
“Eileen comes to us with years of experience and talent,” Gary says, beaming. “I’m not just saying it because she’s my niece; Eileen is a very capable young woman and I know she can help our team develop the skills we are looking for.”
Eileen clears her throat while trying really hard not to show her excitement of being in the same room as the Warriors’ management team. She rubs her sweaty palms on her thighs of her summer dress.
“Her skating ability is above standard and I believe she’d be an excellent choice to replace Ritchie,” Gary says and then turns to Eileen with hopeful eyes. “This would only be temporary of course, but I know she can do the job well.”
“So you are here for the skills coaching position?” Ted asks, lowering his round, chubby face to meet Eileen’s eyes. “The job focuses on skating. It’s temporary, but we need someone to fill Ritchie’s skates until he comes back. I don’t know exactly how long he needs. So this would be a contract position for now. And”—Ted lifts his head, folds his beefy hands on the table, and leans in—“we’re heading into training camp. It’s critical we get the boys off on a strong footing.”
His Game, Her Rules Page 1