The Big Man Falls

by Cassandra Carr

“Not a pretty one.” He took his bowl to the sink. “If you tell me where things go, I’ll do the dishes.”

  “A hot man who does dishes. How did I get so lucky?”

  Lucky? Jon snorted. “I doubt that’s how most people would see it. My players would laugh you out of the room. They all think I’m this total hard ass.”

  “I suppose they would, and should.” She shrugged. “I don’t care how other people see it, I only care about what I see.”

  She started to rise, but Jon speared her with the look that usually made his players sit up and take notice. Mari just smirked, though. “I told you I would do the dishes. You just sit there and give me inspiration.”

  There weren’t many dishes, and soon they were relaxing on Mari’s couch. She’d asked if he wanted to watch one of the movies they’d discussed, but he declined. He hadn’t been entirely truthful about his favorite movies, not wanting to come off as some uncultured fool, and falling asleep in the middle of one while he was at Mari’s house most likely would not enamor him to her.

  “If you don’t want to watch a movie, what do you want to do?” Mari walked her fingers up his chest and Jon took a deep breath.

  “If you’re trying to test my control, you’re succeeding.” Jon generally tried to be a gentleman, but this woman sorely tested him.

  “Am I?” Her eyes rounded with mock surprise.

  “Yeah, you are, you little minx.” Jon grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth. “But I think you know that. You’re well aware of exactly what you’re doing.”

  Mari’s expression sobered. “I’m too old to play games. I like you. You like me. Let’s see where this goes. I want you. And I’ll admit I don’t really want you to see other people. It makes me feel stabby.”

  The thought of some other guy kissing Mari made Jon see red. “Agreed.” Jon paused and then grinned. “Hot damn, I have a girlfriend!”

  Mari laughed.

  ~ The End ~

  CHAPTER 1, SHOULD’VE KNOWN BETTER

  ~ Book 1, Storm Series Now Available ~

  Sarah Jenkins scooted to the edge of the SUV’s driver seat as she stared at the hulking home of the NHL’s Buffalo Storm. The August sunshine was only partially to blame for the bead of sweat running down the side of her neck. After wiping her damp palms on her skirt, she slid out of the car and hit the alarm remote. Turning, she bounced off a hard object and stumbled backward from the force of the impact with an involuntary grunt.

  The immoveable object was a man, and what a man he was. He had a body like granite, with chiseled features, and was casually attired in shorts and a T-shirt clinging for dear life to his arms and chest. The guy could’ve been a sculpture.

  Yum.

  “Are you all right?”

  Her heartbeat pounded in her ears due to the fight or flight reaction from their collision paired with the pure, inexplicable rush of lust he evoked. “I’m, um…” Sarah cleared her throat.

  Talk, you idiot.

  “I’m fine.”

  Her cheeks flamed as she ducked her head. Was this what scientists meant when they said women were attracted to men they sensed had the strongest DNA? Between his killer body, light green eyes, and sexily tousled head of hair, he looked like he’d just jumped out of a cologne ad in GQ. As far as she could see, his DNA was damn near perfect.

  It was hard to miss the long, thorough once-over he was giving her, leaving her hot and feverish—a reaction she couldn’t attribute purely to the blazing heat or her frazzled nerves. Their gazes collided and he stared at her with a glimmer of male interest.

  She wasn’t sure why he’d be interested in her. He was gorgeous, and she was, well, a nerd, for want of a better word.

  Her attention was drawn to full lips that would’ve looked feminine on other men, but there was nothing feminine or soft about this man. Hard, sinewy muscles stretched over his arms, legs, and torso, but despite his size, he was leanly muscled rather than bulky. He reminded her of a panther readying to strike, and her breathing kicked up another notch.

  Sarah shook her head to clear it. She had a new job to focus on right now and that was the only thing that was important. It had to be. She couldn’t afford to screw this chance up.

  “After you.” He stepped back and motioned for her to pass.

  His voice had a hint of an accent. French-Canadian, perhaps? It rolled over her like a gentle breeze. What woman could resist an accent like that?

  “Thank you. And I’m sorry about running into you.”

  “I’m not.” He gave a one-sided, incredibly hot smile.

  She needed to get into the building before she did something stupid like offer herself to him as a human buffet. The man turned and walked away and Sarah cursed her shaky legs as she headed into the arena, which also housed the Storm’s front office, where she’d be meeting with Jon Duncan, the team’s head coach, and Keith Calhoun, the general manager.

  After spending years honing her skills in mathematical analysis as a postdoctoral fellow in Cornell’s Center for Applied Mathematics, or CAM for short, she’d landed her dream job as a competitive analysis consultant for the Storm, a team she’d followed for years. The position combined her loves of hockey and math to provide the absolute perfect fit for her.

  The only problem? The NHL, not the team, had hired her to give the impression they were making an effort to help keep the Storm afloat while the organization searched for a new buyer. The previous ones had just been convicted of embezzlement and tax evasion.

  Nibbling at her nails, she exited the elevator then glanced around for a moment to get her bearings before approaching the double set of glass doors etched with the Storm logo, a hurricane with the team’s name being swept up in it. Now that she was here and thrust into Keith’s and Jon’s faces whether they liked it or not, she had to prove her worth.

  Karen, Keith’s secretary, showed Sarah into his office. It was spacious and well-appointed with a big mahogany desk standing sentry in front of a wall of windows. A small conference table surrounded by six chairs sat to the side.

  Standing and extending his hand, Keith said, “You must be Sarah. Nice to meet you in person. This is Jon.”

  She shook his hand then turned her attention to Jon, who also stood. He nodded but didn’t offer a smile. He was a stocky man with a barrel chest and intimidating as hell. She’d seen some of his press conferences and he didn’t mince words. If she did her job well, hopefully she’d never incur his wrath.

  Keith motioned toward the leather-bound guest chair. “Have a seat.”

  She did, sinking into the buttery leather. Oh man, it’s more comfortable than my bed. If she wasn’t so nervous, she’d definitely enjoy the luxurious piece of furniture more, but even with her stomach doing flip-flops, she still had to resist the urge to run her fingers along the arms of the chair. Forcing herself to sit up straight, she folded her hands in her lap.

  Jon and Keith sat, and Jon twisted to face her. “As you can imagine, even after our phone conversation, I’m way past skeptical about what you can bring to the table. We already have a video analysis consultant to study our competition. However,” he glanced at Keith, “it doesn’t appear we have a choice but to work together, so we might as well try not to get in each other’s way.”

  She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I don’t blame you for being skeptical, but I think my background in math will nicely supplement your current video analysis work.”

  “How so?” Keith asked.

  Sarah focused her attention on him. She’d explained all this already on the phone, but was happy to do it again if that’s what they wanted. These two men held the key to her future and keeping them happy was her top priority. At least Keith didn’t seem as overtly hostile, but rather he looked at her as if she were an exotic animal that might bite at any moment.

  This won’t be easy.

  “Well, for starters, my work in applied mathematics taught me not only critical thinking skills, but also how to use thing
s like probability theory and geometry to give a team an edge. I should note that although some things may seem small and insignificant, they’re not. I think they’re the key to taking your team to the next level.”

  “How so? We already have all the stats, so how would your analysis be different?”

  Jon hadn’t said another word. With any luck the man’s eyes weren’t glazing over in boredom, but she was too afraid to check.

  “It’s my belief goals per sixty minutes of play and goals allowed per sixty minutes of play will tell you exactly how valuable every player in the NHL is to their own team, and once you know that, you know what to key on when forming strategies and figuring out how to defend against other teams’ assets.” Goals per sixty minutes of play didn’t just deal with how many goals each player scored; it was an indication of how many total goals were scored by either that player or a teammate on the ice at the same time. Basically, in her mind, that was the most crucial measure of a player’s effectiveness and his value to his team. “For the Storm, you’ll have something concrete to look at when you’re doling out ice time. It’s worked beautifully for Cornell’s men’s hockey team.”

  She risked a glance at Jon. Thankfully he didn’t look about to fall asleep, but she knew she should wrap it up before he did.

  Returning her attention to Keith, she said, “But that’s just the beginning. Using my techniques should glean information no other team has. You’ll understand your opponents’ strengths and weaknesses better than they will understand yours. You might even understand them better than they do themselves.”

  Sarah was talking out of her ass by this point but couldn’t seem to stop. She had to believe she could back up what she was saying at this level. The NHL was a different beast than college hockey, where she’d tested her hypotheses.

  “Perhaps even more important, you’ll know what your own team’s strengths and weaknesses are so that you can capitalize on your strengths and mitigate your weaknesses.” Sarah took a deep breath and focused on Jon again. His intense gaze bored into hers. She had no doubt he frightened even the most hardened veteran. “I can’t guarantee I’m going to tell you something that drops the Stanley Cup into your hands, but I’m really excited for this opportunity and I want to do well. It was drilled into me from an early age to accept nothing but the best, and that’s what I expect to do.”

  “Fair enough,” Jon said. “You haven’t convinced me this is something that’s even possible, but since the NHL put you in this position, we’ll just have to see what you can do.”

  Jon would a tough nut to crack. She’d have to show him she could do it. That was the only way he’d believe it—if he saw it for himself.

  Keith rose from his chair and came around the desk. “I’ll have Karen show you to your office. Why don’t you spend some time talking to Doug Howard? He’s the video consultant you’ll be working with. Then come back up here with him around noon. I’ll send out for lunch and the four of us can talk more about our plans.”

  Maybe Keith won’t be as hard to convince as Jon…

  Jon also rose. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he scrutinized her face. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I’m glad you expect the best, because that’s what I demand from everyone around me, from my players to my staff.” Cocking an eyebrow, he said, “This will be interesting, if nothing else.”

  Yeah, interesting to say the least. It’s just my life we’re talking about here. No big deal. Sarah murmured an agreement and made her way to the door by herself.

  The man she’d crashed into earlier was chatting with Karen as Sarah exited. She studied him as he propped a lean hip on Karen’s desk. He looked up, catching her in his gaze, and her mouth went dry.

  Before Sarah could truly assess him, Karen noticed her. “Ready to go down to your office?”

  Only paying half attention to the woman, Sarah nodded.

  Her stomach lurched when Karen asked, “Have you met Sebastian St. Amant? Sebastian is one of our players. He played in Rochester last year. Sebastian, this is our new competitive analysis consultant, Sarah Jenkins.”

  “Competitive analysis consultant?” Sebastian repeated.

  “Yes, she’ll be working with Doug.”

  Sebastian nodded and shot Sarah another of his slow, sexy, positively sinful smiles. A tingle started at the top of her head and worked its way to the tips of her toes. “Nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.

  She took his hand. Hers were small and delicate in comparison. After removing her hand from his warm grip with no small amount of difficulty, as he didn’t appear to want to let her go, Sarah felt empty without the benefit of his touch. “It’s nice to meet you too, Sebastian,” she croaked out.

  “Jon and Keith are waiting for you,” Karen told Sebastian before turning to Sarah, “Shall we?”

  Sarah nodded again, watching as Sebastian ambled into Keith’s office. Finding out who Sebastian was had completely scrambled her brain. Rochester was the minor league team owned by the Storm, so all their players were part of training camp since there were always roster spots open. Having such a powerful attraction to a player was bad news.

  Bad, bad news.

  After following Karen out the door, Sarah waited as the older woman pushed the button for the elevator. Karen smoothed her short, permed hair before leaning toward Sarah and whispering, “How were they? Did they behave?” She winked and Sarah laughed.

  “They were fine. I didn’t expect a ticker tape parade. I know this wasn’t their idea.”

  “They’ll warm up. They’re both good men and they recognize quality. If you show them you can do the job, they’ll come to respect you. And that Sebastian, isn’t he something? He’s from up by Montreal somewhere. I just love his accent! All the girls in the office are dazzled by him, but I don’t think he even notices.”

  No chance of him noticing a math geek then. Not that I should even care. I’m here to do a job.

  “He’s such a nice boy I doubt he realizes the effect he has on women. I’ve rarely seen such a combination of talent, personality, and looks, and I’ve been working for the Storm for almost thirty years. Of course, I’m old enough to be his grandmother.”

  When they arrived at what must have been Sarah’s new office, Karen unlocked the door and pushed it open. “It’s not much, I know. They had to convert a storage room into an office. I have no doubt you’ll add some homey touches. Here’s your key. Let me know if you need anything at all.”

  She closed her hand around the key as if Karen might try to snatch it back. “I will. Thank you, Karen. You’ve been very nice.”

  “Welcome aboard. The water can get choppy, but don’t let the guys overwhelm you.” She threw Sarah another wink and left.

  Sarah skirted the desk that monopolized the room and a credenza on which a video machine rested to sit in her desk chair.

  I’ve arrived.

  Now she just had to convince them to let her stay.

  ~ * ~

  Sebastian lugged the last of the boxes up the porch stairs then collapsed on one of the pieces of patio furniture scattered throughout the space. One of the things he loved about Buffalo was the old, rambling houses in the city. Most had wooden front porches set with columns of all different types spanning the entire house. Many were done up in funky colors—too–purples, pinks, reds, bright greens. He’d heard it described as “gingerbread style.” Though he wasn’t sure what that meant, it was kind of cool and different.

  “I had no idea I had this much stuff.”

  His teammate and friend Rob D’Amico plopped down beside him and snickered. “You’re a pack rat, dude. Admit it.”

  “What’s a ‘pack rat’?”

  “I keep forgetting you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about half the time.”

  Sebastian was used to Rob teasing him about English being his second language, so he motioned to get on with it.

  “A pack rat is someone who collects stuff, who can never throw
anything away. Which, by the way, is a bad thing for a hockey player who could be traded at any moment.”

  Sebastian grinned. He wasn’t the type to be constantly worried about being traded. Why do that when you could embrace and enjoy life? “I like my stuff. It makes me more comfortable here.”

  Sebastian missed his family back in Quebec, of course, but had inherited his mom’s perennially sunny attitude, finding ways to keep his roots in his heart while still going out and making his place in the world. He was finally starting to fit in somewhere. His skill level had outgrown the AHL and he was confident he could be an asset to the Storm. Now he had to convince the coaching staff and management he was ready for the show.

  A smirk creeping up on his face, Rob glanced around then back at Sebastian. “Apparently.” He stood. “Let’s get everything into the house. I’m in the mood for a nice, big, juicy steak. You’re buying.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sebastian grumbled, but got to his feet then grabbed two boxes and juggled them as he approached the front door. He wasn’t really mad. Truth was, he couldn’t wait to get settled. With any luck this was where he’d be living all year.

  From behind him, Rob said, “Hey, I never asked. How’d your meeting with Jon and Keith go yesterday? Anything interesting?”

  Sebastian dropped the boxes in the living room and turned to his friend. Shorter than Sebastian by a couple of inches, with his barrel chest and overall stocky build Rob still put fear into the hearts of opponents. Off the ice, you couldn’t find a greater guy, though Sebastian would never admit that. Rob’s head was big enough already. “Actually, yeah, but not at the meeting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sebastian recalled his initial meeting, if you could call it that, with Sarah. Even now, his body still tingled from where hers had pressed against him. That was something he’d definitely like to experience again. Sarah wasn’t his usual type—young, carefree, and out for a good time—but he found himself drawn to her nonetheless.

  “When I got to the arena, this girl, well, this woman, ran into me. Like checked me ran into me, and I had to grab her so she wouldn’t fall. I didn’t think much of it until I saw her again, coming out of Keith’s office. Karen introduced us, and you’ll never guess who she is.” He paused for a beat. “Our new competitive analysis person.”