Going for the Goal

by Sara Rider

  It turned out she wasn’t the only one. The stadium was packed with fans and humming with energy. Jerseys and homemade signs with Nick’s name dotted the stands. It was amazing how quickly someone could go from villain to superhero.

  He could fall out of favor equally quickly, she reminded herself.

  But for now, he’d been a huge part of the Vipers’ Cinderella run for the Cup after a miserable season. This was game five in the second round of the play-offs. A victory tonight would send them through to the semifinals, which meant it was also do or die for Ottawa. The first period started with a bang, both teams battling it out on the ice with ferocious intensity. The coach had put Nick back in the first line in the second game of this series, which meant he got more ice time but also had to play with Liakos. In spite of everything that had happened between them, Nick was keeping his cool and was focused entirely on the game. It was a feat of self-discipline he could manage only because of how badly he wanted to win the Cup.

  Maybe she’d underestimated him. Maybe if she told him the truth about Liakos’s threats and blackmail he would still be able to maintain his focus. Or maybe it would ruin everything he’d worked for. She was going to have to decide soon.

  The Vipers pulled ahead early with a quick goal from Anderson and she jumped to her feet to cheer.

  The guy in the seat next to her, who was part of the small contingent who’d dared to show up in Ottawa colors, nudged her in the arm. “Twenty bucks we steal this one out from under you.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “New York’s an expensive city. Are you sure you want to part with your money so easily?”

  The man laughed straight from the belly, guttural and hearty. “Being around a pretty lady always makes me a little reckless, but our boys know how to play under pressure.”

  “All right, you’re on. But we’ll knock it down to ten bucks if the game goes to overtime.”

  “Deal,” he said with a wink.

  Making a bet with a stranger wasn’t a typical action for her, but it gave her an idea for how to solve her own problem. She made a silent bet with herself. If Nick scored tonight, she would come clean and tell him everything. If he didn’t, she would keep protecting him. The next time they spoke would be about the contract and nothing else. She’d never been one to believe in fate, but somehow pretending like the decision didn’t rest entirely on her shoulders made it feel easier.

  As the minutes ticked down, she realized fate was sending her a pretty clear message. Nick was playing more defensively than ever tonight, shutting down the endless barrage of attacking plays from Ottawa. It made sense that he’d shift his style of play since he was on the same line as Liakos and Anderson—the team’s top offensive threats.

  Nick played clean but tough. His size and strength were undeniably intimidating, but this new style of play emphasized the grace in his movements. To a fan, it was a pleasure to watch, but he didn’t look like he was aiming to earn any individual points today.

  That realization made her heart sink, but it was probably for the best. The team had found their groove, and disturbing it would be irresponsible of her.

  With four minutes left in the third period, the teams were tied with three goals each. Jillian’s fingers ached from clenching the edge of her seat so tightly. Her heart pounded in sync with the seconds disappearing on the Jumbotron. The Vipers’ offense pushed the puck past the blue line but couldn’t penetrate the mass of Ottawa players shutting down the angles to the net.

  Coach Phillips swung the bench door open for a quick defense sub and Nick barreled out on the ice, racing to join the attack. He caught a rebound just before it crossed the line to pull them offside and fired a wicked shot straight at the net. The puck sailed past the goaltender’s glove.

  The buzzer roared, lighting up the arena. Jillian jumped to her feet and cheered until her voice was hoarse.

  “Here,” the Ottawa fan said to her with a grumble once everyone had quieted down and taken their seats. He handed her a twenty. “Might as well get this out of the way now.”

  “Keep it,” she said, heart still racing. “I’ve got a different prize in store.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to tell the man who just scored that I love him.”

  26

  Getting to Nick outside the locker room was impossible tonight. Even with her security clearance, there were too many reporters crowding the arena hallways, and the fans had formed a wall half a block thick around the players’ entrance.

  Instead, Jillian made her way to McAdam’s. She knew the Vipers had come here after every play-off victory in the last month, and there was enough superstition among the team to ensure they’d be back tonight. She wanted to surprise Nick in person instead of with a phone call or a text. There was too much excitement building up to this moment, and it had been so long since she’d seen him up close. She couldn’t bear to hear his voice without some kind of physical connection.

  She nursed a martini from a barstool where she had a decent view of the room, but it turned out not to matter where she sat because the deafening cheers that erupted from the other patrons were an unmistakable sign of the team’s arrival. Nervous energy made her hands shake as she polished off her drink and gathered her purse and jacket. The crowd in the bar had mushroomed into a thick, impenetrable wall within seconds, making it nearly impossible for her to move.

  She was so focused on scanning the room for Nick’s tall frame that she didn’t even notice the person crossing in front of her until she collided with him.

  “Jillian!”

  Between her surprise and the lack of oxygen in her winded chest, it took her a moment to respond. “Hey, Mike. Great game tonight.”

  The Vipers goalie pulled her in for a quick hug. “Thanks, it’s really good to see you. How’ve you been?”

  His sincerity made her throat tighten. They hadn’t spent much time together, but she’d quickly come to like him and Luke. “I’m good. Have you seen Nick?”

  The smile on his face tightened into a strained grimace. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. “Uh, now’s probably not a good time.”

  Icy dread trickled down her spine. Nick was with another woman. What other explanation could there be?

  The floor seemed to give way beneath her, stealing her breath. She’d broken up with him six weeks ago and he was one of the hottest hockey players on the planet. Women would be crawling all over him after tonight’s game. How could she not have seen that coming?

  She straightened her spine and forced her poker face back on. “I’m not here to interrupt his socializing, but I do need to speak with him about an urgent business matter.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be stoked to see you, but are you sure it can’t wait until later?”

  “I’m sure.” The smarter thing would’ve been to protect her heart and follow Mike’s advice, but she needed to see for herself. She wove through the masses of people in the direction Mike had been looking until she found the small table in the corner where Nick was sitting.

  She stumbled backward when she saw who he was with.

  Betrayal felt like a cold knife slashing through her stomach when Nick clapped Lou Parsons on the back and laughed. She’d been the one to break things off in their personal relationship and now Nick was about to dump her professionally for the one agent who would hurt her the most.

  It felt like the world was moving in slow motion, but she managed to tear her gaze away from them and find a path to the exit. The late-night spring air helped her steady her breathing as soon as her feet reached the sidewalk. She flagged a cab that had miraculously appeared within seconds.

  “Jillian! Wait.”

  She froze midway through opening the cab door. Nick’s voice was so familiar to her, it seeped into every part of her body like a drug. She didn’t want him to see the hurt in her eyes. Not when the only rea
son he would seek out Parsons was to make her suffer. She dug a manila envelope out of her oversize purse before turning around.

  His beard was thicker than usual but he was still so inhumanly gorgeous that traitorous heat rushed to her core, despite the look of pity in his eyes. She exhaled a slow, trembling breath when he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “It’s not what it looks like. I swear.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He cupped her cheek with his hand, stroking her skin with his thumb. It took every ounce of her willpower not to lean into his touch. She missed him so much. “I—”

  The cabdriver honked. “Are you getting in or are you going to stand there all night?”

  She jerked back and thrust the envelope into Nick’s chest. “It doesn’t matter. I only came by to tell you that the Vipers have decided to renew your contract for two more years. I thought we might talk about the details before signing, but I guess that’s something you’ll want to do with your new agent.”

  She slid inside the cab and pulled the door shut before he had a chance to answer.

  Jillian woke the next morning with a headache that radiated right down to the tips of her fingers and toes. She’d always been able to function on too few hours of sleep, but the first thought that materialized when she opened her eyes was that she had absolutely no desire to work. Unfortunately, lingering inside the crisp cotton sheets of her bed wasn’t any more enticing. The empty space next to her just reminded her of how much she missed Nick.

  She forced herself to climb out of bed and get ready for the day. Since she worked from home most weekends in a feeble attempt to have some semblance of work-life balance, she opted to log in remotely to her desktop from her laptop on her kitchen table rather than walk the five blocks to her office. In spite of her throbbing head, she had to tackle her business finances today. Losing Nick’s contract would mean losing 3 percent of his multimillion-dollar salary. It also meant losing out on the chance to capitalize on his success and sign more high-income athletes.

  Who in their right mind would touch her now? She’d lost Brody Shakeman, she’d been kicked out of the New York Association of Professional Sports Agents, and now she’d lost Nick, too. Her shoulders slumped as she examined her meticulously maintained spreadsheet. For the first time in five years, she was forced to consider the possibility of selling Nichols Sports Management. It would be the only fair way to give her existing clients the kind of attention they needed. But it would also mean giving up her freedom. She wouldn’t be able to take on clients like Jaime Chen anymore—ones who had incredible potential but were overlooked by the rest of the world. More than likely, she’d have to settle for working as a marketing representative for another agent’s clients, focusing solely on endorsements and promotional opportunities while being completely shut out of the league contract negotiations.

  But at least she’d still be employed.

  She would run herself and her business into the ground before selling to Pantheon, but that wasn’t the only offer on the table. Although Jim Langston’s deal with All Star was subpar, he had an ethical standard that didn’t nauseate her, even if she couldn’t say the same about his office decor. Flat gray walls and matching lifeless office furniture. Then again, it wasn’t like she’d managed in the last five years to create the swanky, Parisian-chic office she’d envisioned. There was always something more pressing eating up her time and finances.

  Even if she didn’t sell her business, she’d probably have to get rid of her office anyway to keep her expenses down. How would she ever get a much-needed assistant if she didn’t even have a place for one to work? She refused to believe failure was an option, but she wasn’t exactly feeling like a success as she finalized her budget projections.

  After more than an hour of work, her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten yet. She padded to the narrow galley kitchen, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms along the way. A knock sounded at her door before she even managed to switch on the coffeemaker. Probably the condo manager coming to inform her about another leak somewhere.

  She finished pouring the water into the coffeemaker and flicked on the machine, figuring a note would be slipped under her door if it was anything urgent. She wasn’t in the mood for any kind of face-to-face human interaction at the moment.

  The knock came again, louder and more insistent.

  She leaned against the counter, dropping her head against her forearms. With the luck she’d been having, she was probably about to discover the building was on fire. “Who is it?”

  “The police, ma’am,” a deep male voice called out.

  Forgetting about her unfinished breakfast, she ran to check the peephole before flinging the door open. A pair of stoic-looking detectives greeted her, but she was too stunned by the person standing behind them to read the badges they held out.

  Her spine stiffened. “Whatever this is about, I can assure you Nick Salinger is one hundred percent innocent. And you damn well better have made sure there was a lawyer present when you questioned him.”

  Given the circumstances, it was probably wrong of him to find Jillian’s instinct to defend him so amusing, but Nick couldn’t help himself. Without even a sliver of context, she stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, lush body hidden beneath one of his oversize Vipers T-shirts, a cowlick in her normally perfect hair, ready to take on New York’s finest.

  “I’m Detective Grace, and this is Detective Emerson. Nick’s been helping us with a case. One that we’d like to speak with you about,” the younger of the two said, ignoring the strained energy prickling around them.

  Jillian stepped to the side and let the detectives in.

  “Relax, it’s not what you think,” he said cautiously, knowing the unresolved tension between them could ignite into a wildfire.

  Her eyes narrowed into razor-sharp slits. “That seems to be a running theme with us.”

  Despite his fierce urge to remove every molecule of space separating them, he backed off and followed the detectives into her living room. She still needed some distance and he wasn’t going to push her further than she would let him.

  Once they were all seated at the table, Detective Grace, a woman who looked to be only in her midthirties but had the solemn, imposing demeanor of someone twice her age, spoke first. “Ms. Nichols, are you aware that wiretapping is a felony in New York?”

  Jillian nodded slowly.

  “Thanks to Nick’s help, we arrested a prominent sports agent last night for planting illegal recording devices in the offices of a number of his colleagues.”

  He watched her eyes widen as the pieces clicked together. “Lou Parsons?”

  Detective Emerson nodded. “We have reason to believe you were also targeted by Parsons, and we’d like permission to search your office for evidence.”

  “Of course.” She clasped her hands together and met his eyes. “Would you mind if I spoke to Nick privately for a moment?”

  He followed her to her bedroom. She shut the door and slumped against it, looking faintly shell-shocked. “I can’t believe it. All this time I knew Parsons was up to something, but I didn’t realize how far he’d go to try to take me down.”

  “At least it’ll stop now.”

  She ran her hand through her messy hair. “I don’t understand how you knew. How did you figure it out?”

  It was the moment of truth he had been dreading. “I kind of snuck into your office last week—”

  Her eyebrows shot up, a clear demand for more explanation.

  “I know it was probably a stupid idea, but I wanted to fix your broken desk. That’s when I found the bug.” She looked mollified, and he continued with a renewed sense of confidence. “I figured it had to be Parsons, so I went to the police. It turns out I’m pretty good undercover. Got him to confess on tape and everything.”

  “No way.” She didn�
�t appear mad. Surprised, and perhaps even a little amused, but there was no anger in her beautiful eyes.

  He nodded, pride beaming from every inch of him. “Parsons assumed I’m nothing but a dumb jock who’s taken a few too many knocks to the skull. I pretended like I was reconsidering his offer to represent me and asked him what kind of in he had with Tyson. Turned out it wasn’t exactly an old college friendship. Unfortunately, I now know things about my general manager’s sexual proclivities that I wish I could scrub from my brain, but combined with the fact that they were able to trace the bugs Parsons planted right to him and the credit card records showing he purchased the equipment, it was enough to convince the police to arrest him.”

  “I can’t believe it’s over. The Association will have to kick him out, too, after this. At the very least, they can’t disqualify me and let him stay on as president.”

  Nick’s heart pounded with the anticipation that had been building since the moment he found the eavesdropping device on her desk. He’d hoped that the chance to restore her professional reputation would mean she’d reconsider breaking up with him. He reached for her wrist, needing to touch her, but she cleared her throat aggressively and he dropped his hand before making contact.

  “We shouldn’t keep the detectives waiting.”

  He stifled a frustrated groan when she turned her back to him and opened the door. He hated not being able to touch her the way he used to. Comfort her. But he knew the last thing she wanted was to feel like a helpless victim.

  Detectives Emerson and Grace wore matching impassive expressions when he and Jillian rejoined them at the table. He hadn’t gotten to know either one much in the week they’d been working together, but he trusted them. They’d taken his concerns seriously from the first minute and found the proof they needed to charge Parsons. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. The detectives suspected Parsons’s web of deceit was so far-reaching, the news of the arrest would turn into a national scandal.