by Sara Rider
“You’re a great guy, so just be yourself, but a little less explosive. Let her make the first move this time. If she doesn’t come around to the idea of more kissing, then it’s her loss.”
Great. More freaking celibacy. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is,” Ben said whimsically. “Trevor’s going to meet me in Maui for spring break.”
“That’s awesome. But you know long distance isn’t easy.”
Nick expected his brother to get irritated by his thinly veiled plea, but Ben’s answer surprised him. “I know. I’m starting to think you’re right about me moving to New York. Dad still doesn’t want me to visit and the school budget for arts programs here is probably going to get cut soon. I know I could go back to just teaching history and physics, but it wouldn’t be the same. I’ve put in a couple applications to some jobs in your area. Maybe something will work out.”
The surging excitement in Nick’s chest was tempered by the realization of how much was riding on his staying in New York. He was one step closer to getting his brother permanently out of Blades, but that meant keeping his spot on the Vipers.
Yeah, no pressure at all.
13
“Coy” was not a term Nick would’ve associated with Jillian, and yet there was no other word to describe the way she tossed her hair and giggled after the compliment Joe Michalchuk, general manager of the Utah Blizzards, had just given her.
“This is a really big arena,” she cooed, like she was delivering a personal compliment to Michalchuk’s ego. Nick had watched her play this bizarre game for the last twenty minutes and his patience was starting to grow thin.
The middle-aged man stretched back in his seat and clasped his hands behind his head. “Twenty-eight-thousand-person capacity, a state-of-the-art gym, and our players’ lounge is connected to a private cafeteria that caters lunch and dinner for the team. All the meals are created and perfected by one of Salt Lake City’s top chefs. I could take you both for a tour.”
Christ. Nick couldn’t tell if the guy was more interested in courting Jillian or him. “Maybe not while the team’s still practicing. Wouldn’t want to rub last night’s loss in their faces.” It didn’t matter how many perks the Blizzards could offer. Nick couldn’t stomach the idea of playing for a team that couldn’t compete with the Vipers even during their worst run in recent memory. The stadium had been so empty, they’d be lucky just to give tickets away.
Jillian jabbed her spiky heel into his big toe. “That would be great, but maybe we should start talking terms.”
His shoulders tensed. He didn’t like this charade. It was one thing to accept a trade if that’s what fate had in store for him, but until then, it was disingenuous to feign interest.
“Well,” Michalchuk said, clearing his throat, “speaking hypothetically, I think we’d be looking at a two-year, four-million-dollar contract. This is all speculative, of course.”
“Speaking hypothetically,” Jillian countered, voice dropping back to its normal octave, “there may quite a few teams interested in Mr. Salinger and the defensive strength he brings.”
Michalchuk shifted forward, dropping his hands to his lap with a slightly confused expression. “Of course. But you understand there is a certain level of risk our team would be taking on in signing your client,” he said with a hint of condescension.
Nick curled his thumbs into the narrow arms of his chair, holding back the urge to storm out of the room. How hard was it to just say what you meant? Who had time for this kind of bullshit?
Jillian just raised her eyebrows. Somehow, the subtle gesture seemed more pointed and powerful than any words.
Michalchuk cleared his throat. “The fight with Liakos is concerning.”
“The fact that Liakos declined to press charges and the Vipers management did not punish my client in any way should give you some indication of his actual culpability in the encounter. But barring that incident, I’m sure you’ll agree that a player with excellent leadership skills and one of the highest records of points for a defenseman is hardly a risk by any standards. It’s also worth noting that Mr. Salinger has maintained a peak fitness level with no serious injuries in his ten years in the NHL.”
“Well—”
“Conversely,” she pressed on, now in full attack mode, “you have a young team lacking in depth and low ticket sales. You need someone with Mr. Salinger’s level of aggression and notoriety to draw in fans, but you also need someone who can deliver on those promises. My client is the only player in the league right now who can do that.”
“The salary level would be open for discussion, of course.”
“Good.” She smiled predatorily. “But you may want to consider discussing it sooner than later, because once my client becomes an unrestricted free agent, he’s likely to get scooped up by another team that’s willing to put their money where their mouth is. If you want a chance to acquire him while his no-trade clause is in effect, you need to convince him it’s worth his while.”
Nick still didn’t understand the point of this meeting to negotiate a trade deal he had no desire to follow through on, but he did have a sudden urge to high-five her for the way she’d just pulled the conversation out of Michalchuk’s greedy clutches.
“What else do you have in mind?”
“You know as well as I do that bringing a physical player like Salinger into a young, speedy team is liable to end up with him playing like an enforcer and spending most of his time in the box. To make this trade worthwhile, you need another similarly aggressive player to take some of the heat. Salinger would consider waiving his no-trade clause if you could secure Rick Annikov from Nashville as well.”
What. The. Hell?
Annikov was his biggest competition as far as defensemen went. Just when he thought he was starting to get a handle on her strategy, she did a 180 so fast, his head spun.
“So was this all an elaborate matchmaking scheme, or is there another reason you convinced Michalchuk that I wouldn’t take an early trade without a buddy?” Nick asked, sliding into the cab.
She took her sweet time buckling her seat belt before letting out a sigh. “Do you really not trust me?”
“I . . . ” He cut himself short, realized he wasn’t quite sure. He leaned back in his seat and scrubbed his hand over his beard. “I do trust you, but you were very convincing in getting Michalchuk to believe I actually want to be traded.”
“Good. I’m supposed to be convincing.” With her gaze locked straight ahead, her lips curled into a sly, satisfied smile.
“Are you going to let me in on what this was all about?”
“Tyson isn’t stupid enough to trade you without bringing in another defenseman who can move the puck and earn points like you do. The Vipers have already traded away their next two years’ worth of first draft picks to get Liakos, and Annikov is one of the few free agents out there who could potentially fill your shoes.”
Nick opened his mouth to protest, but she shushed him with a raised hand.
“Cool your ego. I know he’s not as good as you. But he’s exactly the kind of player Tyson would target. A reliable player with a lower salary. There’s no one else out there with an expired contract even remotely comparable to you.”
The dots finally connected in his head. “So if Utah picks him up in a midseason trade, he won’t be available for the Vipers in the off-season.”
“Exactly.” She patted his hand like he was a school kid earning his first A. “That means trading you would leave a huge, unfillable hole in the Vipers’ defense. But Utah isn’t going to do that if I don’t convince them you really do want to be traded.”
Nick shook his head. “You’re an evil genius.”
“I try.”
He watched the snowcapped mountains passing in his window for a few silent moments. It wasn’t the location or the team or even Michalchu
k that made him so averse to playing here. If he was being honest, it wasn’t the going that was the problem. It was the leaving that made his gut ache. He’d been with the Vipers for almost a decade. Even if the team no longer wanted him, his own loyalty was harder to break. “There’s one part I don’t understand. Why did you argue so hard over the salary? We could have been in and out of that meeting in minutes.”
“Because you’re worth more than a four-million-dollar contract, and even in a hypothetical deal, I refuse to let Michalchuk insult you like that. And because I like to win.”
A brilliant idea popped into his head. “Then we should celebrate your victory.”
Her hesitation drove him crazy. She was his agent, but she’d also become a friend. Or at least as close to a friend as he got.
“Quit thinking so hard. I’ve followed every draconian rule you’ve set for me and it’s paying off. This is business to you, but to me it’s about my life, and I want to celebrate. Don’t make me do it alone.” He could see the indecision playing out on her normally unreadable face. “When are you going to start trusting me?”
Throwing her own words back in her face seemed to work.
“Fine. Just promise me it’s nothing too crazy.”
He grinned and leaned forward to get the cabdriver’s attention. It was time for a little detour.
Jillian should’ve known she was in trouble when Nick told the cab to pull over at the nearest outdoor sporting goods store. He refused to let her come inside with him, claiming he didn’t want to ruin the surprise, and was in and out in less than ten minutes, carrying a couple plastic bags full of mystery items. It wasn’t until the cab detoured off onto a country road winding up the side of a snow-covered mountain that she began to panic.
The impulse to commandeer the vehicle and force it back into the safety and civility of the city clashed violently with the overwhelming desire not to spoil Nick’s good mood. He looked like a little kid, giddy with excitement.
She’d convinced herself that after all these weeks apart they could forget about that kiss and jump back into a business-only relationship, but it wasn’t just the kiss she remembered from that night. It was the sheer joy she’d experienced gliding around the ice rink, letting go of her inhibitions for once and realizing the world wouldn’t burn down if she put aside her work for a few hours. It was also the chance to see a different side of Nick. A softer side.
One she wanted to see again, if she was being honest with herself.
“The sign says this is a toboggan hill,” she said when the cab finally lurched to a stop, trying to sound casual despite the fact that her voice had hiked at least an extra octave watching the dozens of people zipping down the blindingly white slope at breakneck speed.
“Your reading skills are superb,” Nick answered like an ass.
“Seeing as how we don’t have a toboggan or appropriate attire, you’d better be taking me to some fancy lodge for a five-star meal.”
“Don’t know about any fancy lodges,” the cabdriver interrupted, “but they do have an outdoor shack where you can buy hot chocolate and potato chips.”
She glared at Nick, who responded by giving her a playful punch to the shoulder before getting out of the vehicle. She swung her door open and stepped out, intending to chase him down and force him back into the cab, but the spiky heels on her favorite ankle booties sank into the tightly packed snow, trapping her. And then the cab drove off. “Dammit, Nick!”
The corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. “Don’t worry, the driver promised to come back in a few hours. Try these.” He pulled out a pair of fuzzy purple snow boots from one of the bags and handed them to her.
She bit her lower lip with an indecisiveness she didn’t recognize in herself. The boots were hideous but warm-looking and would keep out the frosty chill that had crept into her toes. “Fine.”
She was already off balance and awkward enough trying to get her cold feet into the purple monstrosities, but it was a hundred times worse when Nick swooped in and wrapped his arms around her waist. The close contact short-circuited her brain with memories of his kiss, displacing the already tenuous fine-motor connection between her head and her limbs. Her fingers didn’t seem to know how to work anymore, which only prolonged her exposure to his spicy, intoxicating scent.
She untangled herself from his arms as soon as her feet were shoved into the boots, not bothering to do up the laces or let herself wonder about how he’d managed to guess her size so perfectly, and set her hands on her hips. “Now spill. Tell me exactly what you have planned, because there’s a little sign over there that says they don’t rent toboggans.” Thank god for the small print.
He ran his hand along the scruff of his jaw, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “They don’t. However, they do rent those.”
Her heart buried itself in her stomach when she turned around to see what he was pointing at. “Why would anyone want to slide down a hill on a freaking tire?”
The excitement coloring his face made him look younger. “Because it’s fun. We used to do this all the time when I was growing up in Minnesota.”
“Says someone who doesn’t have to worry about paying his own health insurance premiums.”
“Says someone who has a lot of energy to burn off after following your rules for the last five weeks. Do you need me to remind you exactly how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?”
She gulped. Probably not as long as it’s been for me.
“This is one of the few breaks Coach has given us all season,” he continued. “I know there’s a lot of business to take care of, but I’d like to spend some of my time off actually enjoying myself, even if I have to do it in a completely PG-13 way. You’re welcome to stand here for the next two hours watching me, but it’d be a heck of a lot more fun if you joined me.”
“All right. You win. But in exchange I want you to be more open-minded about the Primal Man campaign. It’s a fantastic opportunity that we can’t afford to mess up.”
“Deal.”
She shook her head. “Not yet. You also have to agree to answer one question of my choosing with complete honesty for every run down the hill.”
“Whatever you want. Now let’s get going before the sun completely disappears.”
“One more thing,” she squeaked, resisting the tug on her elbow from his hand. “If I do shatter all my bones like a fragile eggshell, you’re responsible for making sure I get weekly pedicures in my hospital room.”
“You’re not going to get hurt. I won’t let it happen. Promise.”
Despite her misgivings, she found herself looking like a giant marshmallow in the newly purchased snow pants, parka, and mittens ten minutes later, standing at the top of a precipitous, icy slope that looked even higher from this vantage point. How was she supposed to fling herself down there on a spinning tube and not throw up?
Someone tugged at the hem of her jacket. “Um, ’scuse me. If you’re not going, can I cut in line?”
She looked down to see a kid of about six standing impatiently next to her. She cast a sidelong glance at Nick, who wasn’t even bothering to hide the chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Be my guest.”
The kid dove onto her tube stomach-first and whipped down the hill with a high-pitched squeal.
Jillian pressed her index finger into Nick’s chest. “Not. One. Word.”
He mimed zipping his lips shut, then swept her into his arms without any warning and launched them both into his snow tube. Everything moved so fast, she couldn’t do anything but scream at the top of her lungs as they flew down the hill, spinning with enough centripetal force to squash her internal organs.
And then it stopped.
“You can open your eyes now.”
“Nope. The world is still spinning.”
“Okay, we can cuddle a little longer if you want.”
“Admit it. That was fun. I can tell by the twinkle in your eyes.”
“Maybe a little. Or maybe I’m just excited to finally get the chance for some no-bullshit answers from you.”
He tucked the tube beneath his arm. “Ask away.”
“We need to ramp up your charity work,” she said, following him back up the path to the top of the hill. “You’re great with kids, but I know you don’t want to publicize that work. What would you be okay with?”
He stopped abruptly. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Of course.”
“I’d like to do some more environmental stuff. Ben told me once about how bad air travel is for climate change, so I did some research. There are organizations that you can donate to that will plant trees and stuff to offset the emissions. Since we fly so much in the NHL, I’ve been making the donations, but maybe I could be more active, you know? Like do some free promotional stuff.”
Her jaw dropped. Of all the deep dark secrets to learn about Nick “the Punisher” Salinger, she didn’t expect to find out he was a closet environmentalist.
“You’re laughing,” he said, pulling his mouth into a tight frown.
“I swear, I’m not. I think that’s great. Really great. I was just expecting a more typical NHL-star answer, like contributing your services to the adopt-a-lonely-lingerie-model charity or something like that.”
He shrugged. “There’s a lot we still don’t know about each other.”
“I guess you’re right.”
His serious expression turned into a sly grin. “Then let’s do another run so we can get to know each other better.”