Книга - A Perfect Distraction

A Perfect Distraction
Anna Sugden


For Jake Badoletti this year is all about his career. He has a rare second chance to make the most of being a professional hockey player so no parties, no scandals. Too bad he’s met a woman who could side line those plans.Maggie Goodman is nothing like his usual type – right down to being a single mom. Still, the sizzling connection with this gorgeous brunette can’t be ignored. With a little juggling and a lot of focus, Jake manages to have the game and Maggie. Then his performance on the ice suffers and a scandal erupts.Now he can’t afford the distraction of Maggie… even if she is perfect for him.







A face-off—head vs. heart

For Jake Badoletti, this year is all about his career. He has a rare second chance to make the most of being a pro hockey player, so no parties, no scandals. Too bad he’s met a woman who could sideline those plans. Maggie Goodman is not his usual type—right down to being a single mom. Still, the sizzling connection with this gorgeous brunette can’t be ignored.

With a little juggling and a lot of focus, Jake manages to have the game and Maggie. Then his performance on the ice suffers and a scandal erupts. Now he can’t afford the distraction of Maggie…even if she is perfect for him.


Concentrate, damn it

Jake repeated the silent mantra, hoping it would stick, hoping it would stop the parade of sinful images marching through his mind.

Then Maggie turned her earnest gaze on him. “Is there anything you need me to do for you?”

Her business-like tone should have doused the crazy feelings. But his traitorous body found another meaning to the innocent question, responding in a way that would have shocked her down to her covered toes.

Jake looked up at the mirrored ceiling, with its etched-gold crown motif, and tried to calm the heat caused by her unintentionally provocative words with thoughts of ice. A great big sheet of ice.

What the hell is wrong with you? Nervous, mousy brunettes weren’t his type, even with a sexy accent—he preferred cool, confident blondes. Plus he’d decided less than ten minutes ago to cut women from his life until he’d won the cup. His focus had to be on hockey. No distractions. No exceptions.

His body obviously hadn’t got the memo.


Dear Reader,

Thank you for buying my first book! I’ve wanted to write romance novels since I read my first Mills & Boon at age nine, so having this book published by Harlequin is a dream come true.

Of course, in those days, my stories were a little simpler and usually involved Barbie and Action Man—I thought Ken was a drip!

But perhaps I misjudged Ken. Appearances can be deceptive, after all, and preconceptions can be dangerous.

Think about the famous comedian who suffers from depression when he’s off-stage. The confident businesswoman who is really painfully shy. All those nerdy people who turn out to be superheroes.

Hockey players have a reputation for being violent thugs because people can’t separate what happens on the ice, from the person on skates. In reality, hockey players are among the most humble, gentlemanly and kind-hearted people I’ve ever met.

This dichotomy intrigued me and that’s how Jake’s story was born. Who better to challenge Jake than a woman who believes she’s weak, yet had the strength to survive abuse? A woman who thinks she knows the truth about sports stars.

I hope you enjoy the journey of discovery that Maggie and Jake take. I love to hear from readers, so please drop me a line at anna@annasugden.com or Box 174, Regis House, 23 King Street, Cambridge. CB1 1AH. England.

Happy reading!

Anna Sugden


A Perfect Distraction

Anna Sugden




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Three-time Golden Heart finalist, Anna Sugden, is as avid a fan of romance novels and happy endings, as she is of hockey. Her office is filled with overflowing bookcases, treasured trinkets and some pretty awesome hockey memorabilia. When not reading or watching hockey, Anna enjoys cooking, making simple cross-stitch projects and shopping for great shoes. Anna lives in Cambridge, England, with her wonderful husband and two bossy black cats. You can find out more about Anna by visiting her website, www.annasugden.com (http://www.annasugden.com).


For Keith, my hero, my inspiration—I love you.

For Eileen Sugden (1924–2008)—this is your book.

Acknowledgments

With a first book, there are so many people to thank, especially when the journey to publication was a long one.

I couldn’t have survived the journey without the writing advice, support, laughs and love of my best buddies—Beth Andrews, Terri Garey, Kathleen Long, Janice Lynn and Tawny Weber. You ladies rock!

Special thanks to:

My agent, Jill Marsal, and my editor, Wanda Ottewell—you made my dream come true!

Kate Lutter, Maria Imbalzano and Nancy Northcott for their critiques, support and friendship.

Jeff Vanderbeek for giving me access to the New Jersey Devils organization.

Ken Daneyko for answering my questions and for sharing his experiences as a world-class hockey player.

Tom Ferreri, VP of Arena Operations, Izod Center (Continental Airlines Arena) for taking me behind the scenes at the arena and giving me great insights into how it all works.

Thanks, too, for the Zamboni ride!

Caitlin Knighton for sharing her legal expertise and helping me plot and resolve Maggie’s custody issues.


Contents

Chapter One (#u429d996b-5239-589c-a421-404f15571421)

Chapter Two (#uf82f1796-4239-531c-9d0e-4164726d3c16)

Chapter Three (#u1057112b-1ab5-553b-bb16-4ed646d02efd)

Chapter Four (#u775ac864-5fff-565c-a0f5-366eb7ccadc0)

Chapter Five (#u36d0b609-fae2-5ff4-b4b9-7a06076b32e7)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

“YOU DIDN’T tell me there would be paparazzi!” Maggie Goodman muttered into her phone.

As if she wasn’t nervous enough. She ducked behind the trees, out of sight of the snap-happy vultures with their powerful cameras and long-range lenses. Thankfully, they hadn’t spotted her; their attention remained focused hungrily on the front entrance of Trump Place.

“Relax, sis,” Tracy soothed. “They’ll be watching for Manhattan’s glitterati. They won’t care about the ex-wife of a jack-the-lad footballer. Soccer isn’t as popular in the States as it is back home in England.”

“Everyone here seems to know David Beckham and Posh Spice.”

“Sure, but how many have heard of Wayne Rooney and Colleen, let alone know what they look like? They won’t know Lee Goodman.” Her voice softened. “Or you.”

Anonymity was one of the reasons Maggie had leaped at Tracy’s offer to come to the United States. She’d been tired of having the details of her messy divorce splashed across the tabloids and of being asked questions by the gossip media every time her ex was seen with a new woman. He could date who he pleased as long as he left Maggie and her seven-year-old daughter, Emily, alone. They’d suffered enough.

“They won’t recognize you,” Tracy added. “You look completely different now.”

Maggie smoothed her dark brown hair, recently restored to her natural color from bleached blond, then checked the café au lait linen dress and matching jacket she’d worn for this evening’s meeting. Understated, professional and elegant, it was as far from tarty footballer’s wife as she could get. Not what she was used to wearing—she’d thrown away every bling-covered, barely there outfit as soon as her divorce had been finalized—but it felt normal.

Lee would hate it. Despite the heat, a shiver went through her as she recalled the repercussions of his disapproval. She shook her head to clear the brutal images. She didn’t have to worry about what her ex thought anymore. She didn’t have to worry what any man thought. Maggie would never give anyone the chance to control her life that way again.

“You’re right.” She wished the nervous fluttering in her stomach would settle. “I just don’t want to let you down. I know how important this meeting is for Making Your Move. What if I mess it up?”

Bad enough that Tracy was flat on her back in a hospital bed after emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix and that her assistant had run off with a minor-league baseball player, one of the relocation business’s clients. Maggie would never forgive herself if she ruined her sister’s chance of winning the contract with the New Jersey Ice Cats, the local professional hockey team.

“I doubt you could make things worse. What could go wrong?”

“Jake Badoletti’s a professional sportsman with a bad-boy reputation. We both know how temperamental they can be.” Her gut twisted at the thought of the one she’d divorced nearly a year ago. She touched a finger to the fading scar on her cheek.

“Jake at his worst is a million times better than your snake of an ex. When I dealt with Bad Boy, he was charming—not what I’d expected given the media stories about him.”

Maggie had read the client file about the popular hockey player. Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti was a top defenseman who played as hard off the ice as on it. Clippings from the society pages and celebrity magazines, as well as excerpts from internet sites like TMZ, had shown him dating a staggering array of beautiful women and attending countless parties and celebrity events.

Admittedly, there had been a shift in the stories after the horrific car accident that had taken the life of his good friend. Jake had been injured badly enough that there were fears he’d never skate again, let alone play professionally. Once he’d recovered, the media coverage had focused on his charity work and fan-appreciation events.

Had he really changed, or was he as good at playing the PR game as he was hockey? In her experience, leopards didn’t change their spots.

Either way, it made no difference; she had a job to do. “I’d better go or I’ll be late.”

“I really appreciate you doing this for me, sis.”

“Let’s see if you still feel like that after I’ve spoken with Jake.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s a straightforward meeting.”

“Get him to sign the paperwork that says everything went okay with his move from Chicago.” Maggie tapped her briefcase. “And check if he needs anything else.”

“See, piece of cake. You’ll be in and out of there in no time. Then I promise you can focus on helping me with the admin side of the business instead of taking client meetings.”

“Sounds good.” Maggie kept her voice light. “By the time I finish here and collect Emily from your neighbor’s house, we’ll have missed visiting hours. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m glad Emily hit it off with Janice’s daughter, Amy. It’ll do both of you single mothers a favor.” Tracy swore and lowered her voice. “Nurse Attila is outside my room. She’ll give me hell if she catches me on my cell. She’s already confiscated my laptop.”

“That’s because you’re supposed to be resting, not working.”

“Working helps me feel better.” Tracy’s sharp intake of breath said moving was still painful.

“So would following the doctor’s orders.”

“You always were the bossy big sister. Oops, got to go. See you tomorrow.”

Maggie shook her head indulgently as she snapped her phone shut. Not much kept her sister down. She’d do well to take a leaf out of Tracy’s book.

Helping Tracy was a small way to thank her for giving Maggie the chance to provide a safe, secure life for Emily, far away from Lee. It was also an opportunity to rebuild the self-confidence and independence her ex had stolen from her. This meeting was an important first step. Admittedly, she hadn’t done anything yet, but from the smallest acorns...

“Okay. I can do this.” She squared her shoulders, then strode purposefully toward the brass-and-glass entrance.

Tracy was right. The paparazzi paid no attention to Maggie, giving her only a brief, dismissive glance as she walked past them and through the doors into the lobby.

Relieved at having made it past the first hurdle unscathed, she stepped into a waiting elevator and jabbed the button for the fortieth floor. She checked her appearance in the mirrored wall and grimaced. The ferry ride from Weehawken, along with the summer heat and humidity, had reddened her cheeks and frizzed her hair. Grateful for the air-conditioning, she tried to fix the damage, then turned her mind to the upcoming meeting.

Jake Badoletti was New Jersey’s prodigal son. Recently transferred from Chicago, the Ice Cats management and fans believed he’d bring the ultimate hockey prize, the Stanley Cup, back to his home state. Keen to ensure their star player’s transition went smoothly, the Ice Cats had given Tracy carte blanche in managing Jake’s relocation. They’d promised to put her on retainer for all their player moves if she delivered for Bad Boy.

With Jake settled into his new place, all Tracy needed was for him to sign off the move. She hadn’t wanted to wait until she was out of hospital and had begged a favor.

Maggie swallowed hard. She’d never done anything like this before; she’d been a secretary, then a sports star’s wife, not a businesswoman. Talk about a baptism of fire.

Taking in a deep breath, she tried to calm her jittery pulse. It was only one meeting, and Tracy was depending on her to give it her best shot. I won’t let her down.

The soft digital voice announcing the fortieth floor made her heart thump heavily.

“Showtime.” Stiffening her spine, she strode out of the lift.

Her steps faltered. Noise spilled out of the open apartment doors. Voices and laughter, underscored with a heavy bass beat. The air was thick with a mix of expensive perfume and potent aftershave.

Jake had arranged their meeting during a party? That didn’t reassure her about the kind of man he was.

Several enormous men headed past her toward the elevator. Built like tanks, with thick necks and tattoos, she guessed they were American footballers. A couple of tanned women wearing microminis, crop tops and skyscraper heels hung off each player’s arm.

Maggie couldn’t help a pang of envy when she saw one of the women wearing a sexy pair of Giuseppe Zanotti studded sandals. Her toes curled in her sling-backs. Even though they were Chanel—she hadn’t given up the designer shoes she loved—the sedate pair didn’t have the same feel she knew those strappy stilettos would.

Once, she would have loved being at a party like this. She would have delighted in rubbing shoulders with those richer and more famous than she and Lee were, hoping some of their glitz would come her way. Back then, she would have found a way to be the center of attention.

“Get your butt over here, Cindy,” one of the men growled impatiently at a blonde tottering unsteadily behind the group.

Maggie’s stomach twisted as darker memories filled her mind. She turned away, desperate to escape both her thoughts and the building as fast as possible. Before she could take a step, an inner voice reminded her that wasn’t an option.

She brushed her damp palms against her linen dress and forced the memories aside. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked along the hallway.

Her sense of dread grew as she progressed through the apartment. Aside from the flamboyantly garish decor, this could have been the house she’d left behind in England. From the leather, steel and glass furniture to the top-of-the-range boys’ toys in every room, the place reeked of money and testosterone overload.

She’d expected to find Jake at the heart of the party, but he wasn’t among the crowd in the living room. There were some fit blokes, probably teammates, and a couple of actors she recognized from one of the New York cop dramas, as well as a bunch of fresh-faced clones in buttoned-down shirts and chinos who could be Wall Street whiz kids, lawyers or the wealthy of Upper Manhattan. The women were all tall, thin and tanned with long, shiny hair and the latest designer fashions.

Jake wasn’t among the thick necks doing body shots off a giggling redhead sprawled across the long, shiny table in the dining room. Nor in the den, where another group of men sprawled on leather couches alongside yet more tanned, scantily clad women, watching a baseball game on a giant plasma screen.

Where the heck was he? How could she make a good impression on him when she couldn’t find him? Biting back a sigh, she headed in a different direction.

Near the master suite, she noticed a pair of handsome, well-built men coming toward her. Clearly brothers, they looked like athletes. Hockey players? Maybe they knew where Jake was hiding.

“Excuse me. Have you seen Jake Badoletti?”

“Honey, whatever you want from Jake, I can do better,” the taller man said with a twinkle in his eye.

Though she normally ignored such blatant flirtation, the man’s grin was infectious. Maggie couldn’t help smiling back.

“Behave, Tru.” The stockier bloke frowned, then glanced through the open door behind them. “Jake’s kind of busy.”

Maggie’s smile faded. Great. Her client was holed up in his bedroom with a groupie. She was tempted to leave and make him reschedule, but she didn’t want to get Tracy into trouble. “I’ll wait for him in the living room. Thank you.”

“Don’t rush off. Have a drink with us.” The friendlier brother stuck out his hand. “Tru Jelinek. I play with Jake on the Ice Cats. This is my brother, Ike.”

They seemed harmless enough, and it would be better than waiting alone. “Nice to meet you. Maggie Goodman.”

“You’re English?” Ike studied her carefully. “I didn’t think you Brits were hockey fans.”

“I’m not a fan. I’m with Making Your Move. I have an appointment with Jake.”

“Tracy’s company?”

“I’m her sister. I’m helping her out until she’s back on her feet.”

“We heard about her busted appendix.” He sounded concerned. “Is she doing okay?”

“Yes, thank you. She’s recovering nicely, but frustrated she’s not healing faster.”

“I bet,” he muttered.

“Do you know her well?” She was curious about his reaction.

“She helped me find my town house last summer.”

From his tone, there was more to that story than the single, bald sentence, but she didn’t have time to explore it, as Tru motioned her toward the open bedroom door.

“Since you’re here on business, you should go on in.”

When Maggie hesitated, he urged her on. “You’re not interrupting anything important. Besides, the sooner you’re done, the sooner you can join us for a drink.”

Swallowing her apprehension over what she’d see within, she gripped her briefcase tightly and stepped into the doorway.

In the large sitting area of the suite, by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a group of women fluttered around a tall, dark-haired man like a flock of brightly colored exotic birds. That must be Jake Badoletti.

Her mouth went dry.

None of the photos in Tracy’s file had done him justice. She’d known he was good-looking, but that didn’t begin to describe the man in person.

Heaven help her, he was gorgeous!

Square jawed and rugged, with piercing blue eyes and a crooked grin. He was clearly a warrior of the ice, but his broken nose and scars somehow added to his appeal and made him more intriguing. Unlike the hulking bodies of the thick necks, Jake had the firm, solid lines of an athlete in peak condition. Lean, corded muscle shaped the snug-fitting black shirt and faded jeans. Exciting and enticing, he brimmed with charm and hints of danger.

No wonder he had that reputation—any woman would have a hard time resisting the pull of this particular bad boy. Once upon a time, she’d have been in that crowd, fighting for his attention. Not anymore. Never again.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling a little relieved that she probably wouldn’t see him again.

He’d be Tracy’s problem, assuming Maggie did what she had to do in this meeting. Pushing aside a last-minute nervous quiver, she donned her polite but reserved media smile and entered the lion’s den.

* * *

“WHAT CAN I get you, Bad Boy?”

A skinny blonde in a figure-hugging yellow microdress and spiked heels offered a champagne flute and a shot glass, but the message in her baby blue eyes said, “Choose me.”

Jake held up the beer bottle he’d been nursing for the past hour and forced a smile of regret he didn’t feel. “I’m good, thanks.”

Her full lips pursed in a disappointed pout that six months ago he would have been tempted to kiss away. Now he couldn’t dredge up any interest. He was relieved when she and several of her friends flounced off.

The high-pitched chatter of the women who remained reverberated in his head, making his temples throb. The sickly mix of their perfumes made him yearn for fresh air. He had to get out of here. If it wasn’t for the paparazzi camped outside the building, Jake would have gone for a walk. He would take the heat and humidity of the city in August if it meant he got some respite.

This party had been a mistake. He should have been in his element. Instead, he felt dissatisfied. Empty, with a lingering sense his life was incomplete.

He wouldn’t even be hosting this shindig if Tru hadn’t insisted. His childhood friend had said that the best way to celebrate the transfer from Chicago was to invite Jake’s new teammates to one of his famous star-studded bashes. Though he hadn’t felt like partying since the accident, Jake had given in. Which was why his apartment was filled with the cream of Manhattan’s glitterati mingling with stars from the other pro sports teams in New York.

Jake wished he was somewhere, anywhere, else.

He bit back a sigh. His move home was supposed to be a fresh start. God only knew why he’d been lucky enough to survive that crash, but Jake had promised Adam, at his friend’s graveside, that he’d make the most of the second chance he’d been given. He’d change his life. Show the world, and himself, that he was more than his reputation. More than his nickname.

He knew nothing would bring Adam back. Nor erase the guilt that lay heavy and hard, like a frozen puck, in his heart. But he’d sworn to honor his friend by fulfilling the dream they’d both had since peewee hockey. The dream that had died for Adam on that back road in Chicago. Jake would win the Stanley Cup and raise it above his head in his friend’s memory.

It wouldn’t be easy. Hell, it would be the hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d come close before—even made it to the final, before losing in six games to the Penguins. But this time he had to go all the way. Coming second was not an option.

A husky voice interrupted his thoughts. “Come and dance with me, Bad Boy.” The invitation came from a brunette dressed in scarlet with lips painted to match. “They’re playing our song in the living room.”

He shook his head, softening his rejection with a smile. “You go ahead. I’ll catch you up shortly.”

She shrugged and waggled her fingers in farewell before leaving with a few friends.

If only the rest would follow her.

Jake swigged his beer, grimacing at the flat, warm brew. Once this party was over, his fresh start could begin. He would have one goal, one focus. No more high-octane living, nothing that could be a distraction. No women, either. Dating was off the cards until next June. He’d find somewhere else to live, too. This Trump Place apartment was pure Bad Boy. The old him, not who he needed to be now.

That reminded him—he was meeting someone from Making Your Move this evening. He was glad he’d deliberately scheduled the follow-up during the party; he had an excuse to duck out of the fun.

A movement by the door caught his attention. He glanced over, wondering idly whether the newcomer was a celebrity, a socialite or a puck bunny, and mentally braced himself to switch on the charm.

His attention caught and held.

The woman standing there clearly wasn’t a party guest. She wore little makeup and her dark brown hair was scraped back. A few curls had escaped to softly frame her face. Her neatly tailored brown outfit draped nicely over her curves, but there wasn’t an inch of skin visible from midcalf to neck. Even her toes were covered.

Instead of turning him off, she had him wondering if those shapely calves meant her legs were gorgeous all the way up. Did she paint her toenails fire-engine red or shell pink? How much smooth, creamy skin would be revealed if he undid one of those large jacket buttons?

Unexpected heat flashed through Jake.

This was crazy. He was surrounded by the most beautiful women in New York, yet his body chose to spring to attention at Miss Prim and Proper?

Pull yourself together, Badoletti. He shook his head to clear it.

“Is something wrong, Bad Boy?” A model in a hot-pink crop top, which emphasized both her tan and her jutting shoulder and pelvic bones, touched his arm.

Fighting the urge to brush off her hand, he shook his head again. “Excuse me. There’s someone I need to see.”

She followed his gaze. “Sure,” she said, flicking a dismissive glance at the woman in brown before sauntering away with a deliberate swing to her hips.

As Jake walked across the room, Tru appeared beside the intriguing newcomer.

“Hey, bro, this is Tracy’s sister, Maggie.” Curiosity gleamed in his green eyes. “Apparently, you have a meeting.”

“We do.” Jake grinned. “Thanks for coming, Maggie. Hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“Not at all.” She shook his hand.

Her accent made her sound cool and polite. Yet the instant their fingers touched, tiny sparks of heat danced across his skin. Desire speared through him, even as she pulled her hand away.

“Don’t keep her working too long. This is a party.” Tru laid his hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “Hope to see you again very soon.”

“Thank you for your help.”

Her soft smile at his friend as he left caused Jake’s stomach to tighten.

“Let’s find somewhere quieter to talk,” he suggested, motioning for her to precede him out of the master suite.

“All right.”

Maggie’s expression was stony as they walked down the hall, past several laughing, tipsy couples, toward the spare room he’d commandeered as an office. He was surprised by her stiff attitude until he noticed the wariness in her chocolate-brown eyes.

Realization dawned. She thought he wanted to turn their meeting into a private party.

Disappointment twinged. It was his own damn fault. He’d spent too long living up to his image and courting publicity, relishing every column inch and glossy photo.

That would all change after today. And she was here to help.

Jake reached past her to fling open the door. She flinched when it banged against the wall. Jeez, the woman was uptight.

“I’m sorry for the mess.” He gathered up folders from the marble-topped coffee table and tossed them into a box. “There’s so much paperwork associated with a transfer.”

Maggie scanned the room, then joined him. A hint of her light, fresh fragrance teased his nose as she handed him some files.

“I’ve seen worse. Besides, the boxes help distract you from the—” she waved a hand to indicate the purple-and-gold-flocked wallpaper, the matching curtains and gold-leaf-encrusted furniture “—unusual decorating style.” Her lips twitched.

So Miss Buttoned-Up had a sense of humor.

“Yeah, it’s kinda over-the-top.” He grinned, feeling a kick of pleasure at her answering half smile. “The owner’s a young basketball phenom who’s moving to Miami. He didn’t want to give up his apartment and it suited me to rent from him.”

Maggie pulled a folder and pen from her briefcase. “We should get started. I don’t want to keep you from your guests.”

He didn’t bother to correct her assumption that he wanted to return to the party.

“Grab a seat.” He shifted some boxes from a pair of purple-and-gold silk-covered armchairs.

As she sat, Maggie’s hem hitched higher, momentarily displaying more smooth leg. She quickly straightened her skirt so it covered her knees once more.

The tantalizing glimpse sent a spike of heat through Jake. He brushed it off, annoyed. He wasn’t some long-haired dude in those romance novels his mom read, who got turned on by a nice ankle. Then why did his body tighten uncomfortably as he watched her undo those big buttons on her jacket to reveal a demure neckline? He’d been right about the creamy skin.

Focus.

Maggie put on black-framed glasses. They should have made her look worse, but they actually made her look cute. He imagined her removing them and letting down her hair like in those old movies.

Concentrate, damn it.

She turned her earnest gaze on him. “Is there anything you need me to do for you?”

Her businesslike tone should have doused the crazy feelings. But his traitorous body found another meaning to the innocent question, responding in a way that would have shocked her down to her covered toes.

Jake looked up at the mirrored ceiling with its etched gold crown motif, and tried to calm the heat raging in his groin with thoughts of ice. A great big sheet of ice.

What the hell is wrong with you? Nervous, mousy brunettes weren’t his type, even with a sexy accent—he preferred cool, confident blondes. Plus less than ten minutes ago he’d reaffirmed his decision to cut women from his life until he’d won the Cup. His focus had to be on hockey. No distractions. No exceptions.

His body obviously hadn’t got the memo.

“I want to move,” he blurted, desperate to focus on the meeting.

She frowned, surprise evident in her voice. “You just said this suited you.”

“I thought it did, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“I see.” The surprise turned to concern. “May I ask what’s wrong? Is it the location?”

Jake nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Manhattan. But it’s a long, grueling season—eighty-two games from October to April, half on the road, then a play-off run that will hopefully last through June. It’d be better if I lived closer to the arena and the airport.”

“Won’t you miss everything the city has to offer?”

How did he explain that that was the point? Staying here would be a mistake. Too much temptation, too easy to get sucked back into his old lifestyle, to be distracted. When he’d rented this place, he’d been sure he could handle it. But tonight was proving otherwise. “I’ll still be able to get into the city if I need to.”

“Fair enough.” Maggie pulled some papers out of her folder. “We should complete this questionnaire. It’ll help me figure out the kind of place you’re after.”

“Okay.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “Go for it.”

Maggie tensed and scooted way back in her seat.

What the hell? Stunned, he froze.

It took a moment to register that she was uncomfortable with him sitting that close. Carefully, he shifted and eased away. She relaxed visibly, making him wonder why she was so skittish around him.

“So,” she said briskly. “You want to be in New Jersey. Do you have an area in mind?”

“Somewhere near where my parents live.”

Her brown eyes widened. “You want to go home?”

Her question struck a chord. Was that what he wanted?

Six months ago, he would have laughed at the idea of living in the quiet, leafy-green suburbs alongside the workaholic commuters and the soccer moms. Now it seemed like the perfect solution. He could buy a house with a yard. Have room to breathe, the time and space he needed to cope with the stress of the season. Somewhere to chill or hang out with Tru and Ike. A place to be himself—whatever the hell that meant.

Best of all, there would be no distractions in Jersey.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I want to go home.”


CHAPTER TWO

“ANOTHER WEEK of bed rest!”

As her sister slumped against her pillows, Maggie bit her lip to hold back a smile.

“But you’re home, Auntie Tracy, and we’ll look after you.” Emily danced around the room with the boundless energy of a seven-year-old. “We’re much nicer than Nurse Attila.”

“That’s true.” Tracy crossed her arms. “I expect the best service in this establishment. You’ll have to wait on me hand and foot.”

“Will you give me big tips?” Emily widened her eyes innocently. “You said that’s how you get the best service.”

Maggie swallowed a laugh.

Her sister groaned. “I thought a niece did those things for her favorite aunt out of the goodness of her heart.”

“Does that mean for free?”

“I don’t know where you get that precocious streak from,” Tracy grumbled.

“Don’t you?” Maggie arched an eyebrow.

The doorbell rang with a familiar double peal.

“That’s Amy. Can I go and play with her?” Emily skipped from foot to foot.

“What happened to looking after me?” Tracy whined theatrically.

“Mummy can do that. Besides, Amy’s mum is making brownies. With pecans and everything.” Emily turned to Maggie. “Please.”

“You may, but...” Her voice trailed off as her daughter thundered downstairs. “Make sure you’re back at noon,” she called out.

“Thanks, Mummy. You’re the best.” The front door opened, then slammed shut.

“Tossed over for brownies,” Tracy groused.

“Not just any brownies. They have pecans and everything.” Maggie tucked the quilt more closely around her sister. “Enjoy the peace and quiet while you can.”

Despite her banter with Emily, Tracy was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and a sheen of perspiration on her forehead. The journey from the hospital hadn’t been easy, with every bump taking its toll. “I’ll have plenty of time to rest, thanks to that doctor.”

“At least he agreed you could come home.”

“Only if I promised not to work for a week. I bet that’s Nurse Attila’s proviso.”

“She wants you to heal properly,” Maggie said.

“She doesn’t want me landing back in her ward anytime soon.”

“And you, such a model patient.” Maggie gathered some magazines and placed them nearby. “Time for more painkillers. Are you hungry? I could make you a snack.”

“I’m fine.” Tracy waved her hand impatiently. “Grab a chair and tell me what happened at the party.”

Maggie hesitated. She’d spent most of last night tossing and turning, her body strangely hot and prickly. Though she’d wanted to blame the heat, she knew full well what, or rather who, had caused her inability to relax and sleep.

Jake Badoletti.

The unwanted attraction that had flared during the meeting had remained with her long into the night. She’d berated herself for being susceptible to his roguish smile and easy charm. After everything she’d been through, she should have been immune to the tall, dark and dangerous sports star. His touch shouldn’t have made awareness tingle through her. His deep, rich voice shouldn’t have made her pulse skip as if each word was a seductive caress.

Why? She hadn’t reacted to a man in ages. She didn’t want to react to a man like Jake ever again.

Though he hadn’t acted like she’d expected—no superstar superiority complex, no outrageous demands or sleazy flirting—Maggie had learned the hard way not to be fooled by a handsome facade. To know a devil-may-care smile could hide darkness. She ran her finger over her cheek, the small scar a visible reminder of her last mistake.

Perhaps she was being unfair to Jake, tarring him with the same brush as Lee. But for Emily’s safety and Maggie’s peace of mind, she couldn’t afford to relax her guard.

Besides, she wouldn’t see him again. Tracy would handle all further communication with him. Maggie ignored the twinge in her chest at that thought.

“Was anyone interesting at the party?” Tracy asked.

Safe ground. “I’m sure there were loads of famous people, but I didn’t recognize many. I saw that sexy guy from CSI who’s doing a guest stint with CSI: New York.” She sat in the armchair by the bed. “Apparently, that bloke we liked from Sex and the City dropped by, but I didn’t see him.”

“Bloody typical. I miss all the fun.”

“Weren’t you the one who sat near Tim Robbins at Madison Square Garden? I’ve lost track of all the stars you’ve seen at Yankee Stadium.”

“But I’ve never been to a bash like Jake’s.”

“It wasn’t anything special.”

“I’m not as blasé as you about hobnobbing with celebrities.”

“Jaded, rather than blasé,” Maggie said softly.

“Well, you were one of them, not long ago.”

“Hardly. My only real claim to fame was being a WAG.”

“Being one of the footballers’ wives and girlfriends makes you a celebrity, too.”

“Only because every moment of your life is covered endlessly in the press. What you wear, what you eat, how you look—it’s all discussed and analysed. The paparazzi follow you everywhere, watching and waiting. The appeal of having my picture on the cover of all the magazines and being recognized in the supermarket wore off a long time ago.”

Much to Lee’s displeasure. When she’d first married him, she’d loved the publicity and lifestyle that went with being part of a celebrity couple. It hadn’t taken long for the glamour to fade. For her to tire of having every moment of her life controlled by her ex to optimize media opportunities. “Lee still chases the headlines and the column inches. He’s desperate to be another David Beckham.”

“He’s not a good enough footballer. He’s never played for one of the top Premier League teams or been picked for England.”

Painful memories of what had happened every time Lee hadn’t been selected flickered through Maggie’s mind. Her now-healed arm twinged.

Her reaction must have shown, because Tracy changed the subject, her tone brisk. “How did the meeting with Jake go?”

“Fine.” Maggie pushed the past aside. “He was pleased with the move, but he wants somewhere else.”

“Really? I was sure he’d love that apartment.”

“Apparently, Manhattan is too distracting.” Maggie added air quotes. She found it hard to believe an athlete with his reputation wanted a sedate life in the suburbs. “He wants to concentrate on hockey.”

“Moving to a new team is quite an upheaval, and it’ll be a tough start to the season because he hasn’t played in six months. It’s hard keeping up with that life when you’re healthy, let alone when you’ve been injured so badly.”

“True.” She’d struggled to cope after Emily’s birth and had wanted desperately to withdraw from the social whirl, but Lee had insisted she continue. It had taken a doctor’s intervention to get some respite. “Still, it seems a little sudden.”

“He’s probably one of those people who makes up his mind to do something and wants it done now, now, now.”

“That, I can believe.”

“What’s he after?”

“A house with at least three bedrooms and a large garden.” Maggie explained briefly what she and Jake had discussed. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s thought through what he really wants. So I’d recommend somewhere with the flexibility to adapt to his needs, like adding a home gym.”

“Sounds good.” Tracy winced as she straightened. “I should get on this right away.”

“You’re not up to it.” Maggie shook her head. “No business for a week, remember?”

“That was before I knew Bad Boy wanted to buy a house.”

“He can wait until you’re better.”

“Even if he’s willing to delay, the Ice Cats won’t be happy. This project is a big step up from the ad hoc assignments I’ve done for them and the clock’s ticking. Until Jake signs to say the job’s finished to his satisfaction, Making Your Move won’t get that retainer.” Tracy’s words tumbled over each other as her voice rose in pitch. “I can’t risk them changing their minds. Becoming their sole contractor for player moves for the next five years would make my business financially secure. Everything has to be perfect.”

“I know this project is important, but so is your health. If you rush back to work, your recovery will take even longer.”

“I have no choice. There are plenty of firms willing to take my place. Unless...” Tracy’s expression became pensive. “I know we agreed you’d only do that one meeting, but would you be willing to help me out again?”

Maggie knew what was coming and hated that she couldn’t refuse. Her sister wouldn’t rest with this situation nagging her. “What do you need me to do?”

“Manage Jake. Mimi, my favorite real-estate agent, will help you find suitable properties. Also, check his rental papers to see the penalties for early termination and...”

Panic fluttered in her chest at Tracy’s list of instructions. It was too much. She couldn’t be responsible for all that. “I can’t. I have no experience.” Lee’s sneering voice echoed in her head. You’re useless. “I’ll make a mistake and blow it for you.”

“Rubbish!” Her sister smacked the bed. “I hate what that bastard did to you. Bad enough that he controlled every aspect of your life like a modern-day Svengali. His belittling jibes did as much damage as his fists.” Her sister softened her tone. “You’re a smart, capable woman. You can do this and much more.”

Tracy forced Maggie to meet her gaze. “Look what you’ve achieved in the past few months. When I fell ill, you moved over here, found a summer activity camp for Emily and sorted out a school for the fall. To say nothing of what you’ve done for me at work.”

“But I might make a mess of things and cost you the business.”

“You won’t. Besides, I’ll be right here overseeing everything.” Tracy’s smile was wry. “Even if you won’t let me use my laptop, I can listen and advise.”

This was supposed to be Maggie’s fresh start. She’d vowed Emily would never see her as weak and pathetic again. Just because things weren’t going smoothly didn’t mean she should give up. She owed it to herself to see what she was capable of.

With her sister nearby, what could go wrong? “It’s only for the week?”

Tracy nodded eagerly. “Most of the work can be done by phone or email. You probably won’t have to see Jake more than once.”

See Jake again? Maggie’s pulse gave a funny little lurch. It had been one thing to dismiss her reaction to him when she’d thought she wouldn’t see him again. Quite another to test her resolve not to be affected by another meeting with him.

Her sister continued, “Then you can return to taking care of the admin, like we agreed. I prom—” She made a wry face. “No promises?”

A smile slipped out. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks.” Tracy settled against the pillows. “So, is Bad Boy as sexy in person?”

“He’s nice,” Maggie hedged, cursing the heat that filled her cheeks. “Polite, charming.”

“You fancied him, I can tell.”

Arguing would only fuel her sister’s curiosity. “He’s better looking than his photos,” she conceded. “Why don’t I get you a cup of tea?”

“Thanks.” Tracy must be tired to accept the distraction so easily. “Bring up Jake’s file, too, and let’s see what needs to be done.”

Maggie had made it to the door when her sister giggled. “You should have the next meeting here, so I can see how hot Jake really is.”

Maggie didn’t dignify that comment with a response.

As she went downstairs, she wished for a fraction of Tracy’s self-confidence. Her sister’s bitter divorce from her cheating husband hadn’t slowed her down. It had made her stronger.

It was time Maggie followed her example. She’d vowed the night she left Lee to do everything she could to provide her daughter with a happy, safe and secure life. Tracy was giving her the perfect opportunity to make that happen. Maggie needed to dip into the well of strength that had helped her survive her marriage and get on with it.

Maggie made the tea, then went into the office. As she grabbed Jake’s file, a picture slid onto the desk. Those killer ice-blue eyes stared up at her. She jammed the photo back into the folder, then put a hand over her pounding heart as if she could slow its runaway pace. The last thing she wanted or needed in her life right now was a man. Least of all, Jake Badoletti.

“He’s just a client,” she told herself. “Nothing more.”

She ignored the inner voice that cackled with disbelief as she went back upstairs.

* * *

NOTHING APPEALED TO him.

Jake studied the property sheets spread across his parents’ kitchen table and sighed. He’d been excited when Maggie had emailed them ahead of their meeting. An hour later, and with Maggie due to arrive any minute, he had to admit he wasn’t jazzed about a single one.

“You don’t like these houses?” His mom gave him a glass of lemonade.

“Definitely not these tasteless monsters.” He gathered some rejected properties into a pile. “These are too modern, lack soul.” He added another group to the stack. “And these...”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this change?” she asked softly, concern in her blue eyes. “You’ve been through so much and this is such a big decision.”

“It’s because of what I went through that I want to change my life, Ma. I have to.”

She didn’t look convinced.

His cell rang, and he glanced at the caller ID but didn’t answer. The popular starlet’s persistence was beginning to tick him off.

“That hasn’t changed.” His mom smiled. “The girls still call.”

“But I don’t call them back. I told you, I’m focusing on hockey. Period.”

“You’re sure?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re a good boy, Jake. No matter what they call you.”

He was glad no one was around to see him choke at his mother’s faith in him. It proved he wasn’t beyond hope. And reinforced why he couldn’t waste this second chance.

He refocused on the property sheets. “These town houses have small yards.”

His mom added them to the no pile.

“That leaves these four. I don’t really like any of them, but Maggie won’t be impressed if I reject everything sight unseen.”

“Who’s Maggie?” His mom’s innocent expression didn’t fool him.

He kept his voice casual. “She works for that relocation agency. She’ll take me around the places I’m interested in.”

“I see.” She sighed heavily. “I’d hoped your new life would include settling down, getting married and giving me grandchildren.”

“One thing at a time, Ma.” He shook his head at her. “Remember, no distractions.”

“Since when is a nice girl a distraction?”

An image of Maggie in that mud-brown suit flitted through his mind, followed swiftly by teasing little snapshots: the momentarily hitched skirt, the undone buttons, her smooth, creamy skin. The way she nibbled her full bottom lip when she was thinking. He could swear a hint of her fragrance wafted past him.

His blood heated.

Maggie fit his mom’s idea of a nice girl. Given how many erotic dreams he’d had about Maggie since their meeting and how many times she’d popped into his thoughts, the mousy brunette was also one hell of a distraction.

“Nothing but hockey, Ma, until I win the Cup.”

“Many players have wives and families and still win the Cup.” She squeezed his hand. “You need balance in your life.”

The doorbell rang, saving him from having to reply.

He leaped to his feet. “I’ll go.”

Maggie stood on the front porch. Today’s gray suit was as drab as the brown thing. The demure neckline had a lace collar that would have suited a nun’s habit. The itty-bitty heels of her gray sandals looked uncomfortable to walk in. No sign of toenail polish. Not that he was obsessed or anything.

He tamped down his jumping pulse. “How’s it going?”

“Fine, thank you.” She smiled uncertainly. “I hope I’m not too early. I’m still finding my way around and get lost, even with GPS, so I leave extra time.”

“Not a problem.”

“Come in.” His mom bustled past him. “It’s too warm to be standing on the porch. I’m Tina Badoletti.” She took Maggie’s arm and ushered her down the hall toward the kitchen, chatting a mile a minute about the weather, her garden and the flowers she’d just picked.

Jake followed behind, shaking his head fondly.

As Maggie walked into the kitchen, she turned to give him a slightly shell-shocked smile. His eyes were drawn downward, over her curves to those shapely calves and ankles and back up to...

Buttons. Lace-covered buttons that looked like sugar-dusted candy. In a line, along the side seam of her pencil skirt.

His fingers itched to discover if they were real or just for show. His heart thudded against his ribs at the thought of undoing them, one at a time. His groin tightened at the image of what would be revealed beneath.

Jake slammed to a halt outside the kitchen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t going to happen. He had to focus.

Right after he figured out how to spend the afternoon with Maggie without getting distracted by those damn buttons.

He resisted the urge to knock his head against the wall and entered the kitchen.

Maggie sat at the table with a glass of lemonade. His mom had commandeered the seat next to her and was in the midst of a merciless barrage of questions.

He should intervene. Grown men, even some of the toughest hockey players, had quaked at Tina Badoletti’s inquisition. Maggie, the nervous mouse, stood no chance.

Yet as Jake hovered in the doorway, ready to leap to the rescue, he realized she was handling his mom’s nosiness just fine. “Of course I have pictures of Emily.” Maggie laughed as she pulled out a purse-size photo album.

The tension tightening his shoulders slipped away at the cozy sight of the two of them with their heads together, flipping through family pictures. Funny, he couldn’t imagine any of the women in his past being so comfortable with his mom.

Who did that say more about, them or him? He cleared his throat, trying to ease the knot lodged there.

Maggie stiffened. Her wide-eyed gaze shot to him. She closed the album and stuffed it in her purse, then pulled out her notepad. Disappointment tugged his chest at her jerky actions. The nervous mouse was back.

How could he get her to relax again? To replace her stricken expression with the bright smile she’d worn a moment ago.

He said the first thing that popped into his head. “Ma, if you get out my baby pictures, I’ll tell Dad about your bingo winnings in the flour canister.”

His mom rose, waggling her finger at him. “As if I’d show her your scrawny, naked, six-month-old butt.” She turned to Maggie. “He was the skinniest baby.”

Maggie bit her lip as if suppressing a giggle.

Jake slid into the chair his mom had vacated, giving Maggie a “what can you do” shrug. “You’ll wonder why I wanted to move home when I get so much abuse.”

“Pfft,” his mom said. “Enough people treat you like a movie star. If I didn’t keep you grounded, your head wouldn’t fit through the door. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

The giggle escaped, becoming a laugh.

He liked that her laugh was full-bodied, not the squeaky titter so many women had. He also liked how it lit up her face, her eyes.

Clearly torn between siding with his mom and not offending her client, Maggie stuttered an answer, watching him carefully.

“Yeah, you girls stick together.” He winked at her

She looked startled for a moment, then smiled tentatively.

His mom slid a plate with a slice of pound cake before Maggie, overriding her objection with a pat on her shoulder. “You’ll need the energy to help my son choose a house. He’s been as miserable as a wet cat about the ones you sent.”

Heat rose up his neck. “Ma, you’re killing me. Don’t you have something to do?”

“I have to get dinner on.” She pulled vegetables out of the refrigerator. “You know your father is starving by seven.” She pointed an onion at the pile of papers. “Those are all my son’s rejects.”

“You didn’t like anything?” Maggie frowned as she sifted through the discarded sheets and cross-checked them with her list.

“These four are possibilities.” He handed her the details.

“I thought this might have met your needs.” She tapped one of the discarded sheets. “It has substantial square footage, a private gym, a master suite with a whirlpool tub and a large yard with trees.”

The overblown McMansion had appealed to his ego, but only briefly. “Is that the one with a freaking full-size ballroom?”

Her grin caught him off guard. “I thought that would be the clincher. Don’t all you hockey players want to be on Battle of the Blades?”

“Hell...heck no!” he spluttered. “I don’t want to be in any reality show, let alone one that makes me dance or figure skate or whatever you call it.” He smiled ruefully at the teasing twinkle in her eyes. There was that sense of humor again. “You got me.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” There was a touch of uncertainty in her eyes, like she’d expected him to be mad. “Back home, lots of sports stars clamor to be on reality shows. I think they’re nuts wanting that invasion of privacy. Everyone knowing every intimate detail of their lives.”

That had the bitter ring of experience. He wondered what her story was. “Yeah. That can get old pretty quick.”

Their gazes met. The click of understanding between them seemed almost physical. What was it about this woman?

A loud “Coo-ee” made them both blink, breaking the connection.

Aunt Karina, his mom’s best friend, came in, her gray curls bouncing. “You’re home and you haven’t been to see me, Jakey?” She shook her finger at him, then hugged him close. “You’re too busy with your hockey rabbits to visit an old woman?”

He stifled a grin. Despite being in America for many years, she still muddled her English. “Puck bunnies, Aunt Karina.”

“Bunny, rabbit, it’s the same, no?” She shrugged.

“Sure. But you’re my number-one girl.”

She sniffed at his flattery, but her smile was indulgent. “It’s good to have you back. Your mother missed you. Me, not so much.”

“Mom said you have a new boyfriend.”

“At my age, I have gentlemen friends. There’s no funny stuff...they’re too old.” She sighed. “And I’m too old for a toy boy...boy toy.”

“You’re not too old,” he reassured her.

“Correct answer.” Her eyes lit up as she spotted Maggie. “You let me chatter on when you have a girlfriend visiting?”

“I’m not—”

“She’s not—” He and Maggie spoke simultaneously, then stopped.

“We’re not dating. Maggie’s helping me find a house.”

“Uh-huh.” His mom turned back to her chopping.

“Uh-huh.” Aunt Karina sat at the table.

It was as if they could see inside his head. Could see the effect Maggie had on him.

Damn it. If he wanted to convince anyone he wasn’t interested in Maggie, he’d have to convince himself. Right. Like that would happen.

He had more of a chance of breaking Wayne Gretzky’s scoring records.

* * *

MAGGIE FOUGHT ENVY as she watched the fond banter between Jake and the two women. She could imagine such teasing interplay at family gatherings in the bright, airy kitchen.

So different from the stilted atmosphere in her parents’ house, which had lacked any kind of emotional warmth. Where her father dominated, disapproval reigned and opinions from anyone else were not tolerated.

This was the home she and Tracy had yearned for. From the postcards adorning the fridge to the cute curtains framing the large window and the smell of baking that lingered in the air, it felt cozy and welcoming.

No wonder Jake had found the Trump Place apartment lacking.

“I can see why the houses I sent through don’t appeal.” She picked up the four remaining property sheets. “I suspect these won’t be right, either.”

Surprise lit Jake’s blue eyes. “What’s wrong with them?”

Maggie had a momentary pang of unease. He might not like her disagreeing with him. But it was her job to make his move go smoothly. Tracy would expect nothing less. As uncomfortable as it made her, she shouldn’t hold back her thoughts.

She fought her nerves, then indicated the first sheet. “This has great square footage, but the rooms look dark and poky. You could knock down walls to make it more open, but it would be a lot of work and upheaval.”

“I agree, for sure. I don’t need the disruption.”

Maggie blinked. He’d listened to her opinion.

She set the property sheet aside, then slid the next one to him. “This one has an unfinished basement. More upheaval. Plus, the house is on a steep slope, with the garage at the bottom. There may be problems with water runoff.”

Aunt Karina tsked. “You don’t want to worry about flooding.”

Jake nodded. “I had reservations about the basement, but hadn’t thought about the slope. Good catch.”

Heat tinted her cheeks at his praise.

“I’m sure your thoughts about the other two houses will be on the money. Why bother even having a look at them?”

His faith in her judgment gave her confidence a boost. “You might feel differently once you’ve seen the houses. Also, other things may occur to you as we go round them, which will help guide Mimi and me in finding other properties for you.”

“Yeah. It just seems like a waste of time.”

Maggie’s breath caught in her chest. Had she misjudged his easygoing nature?

“I don’t see why it’s so hard to choose.” Jake’s mum chopped herbs with impressive speed. “You travel so much, you won’t be around to worry about dark rooms or whatever.”

“You and Dad were just as picky before you bought this place, Ma. We saw dozens of houses and you rejected every one.”

Tina smiled fondly at her son. “I know you wanted the best for us, but we didn’t want to waste the earnings from your first big contract.”

Jake bought this place for his parents? Lee wouldn’t have been so generous.

“You could have had a house twice this size and I’d have still had money left over.” His ears were tinged with pink.

“After that cramped, rented apartment, a house of our own was a dream come true. But we wanted somewhere that felt like home. This house welcomed us.”

He rose and hugged his mother. “That’s what I want, too, Ma.”

Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s a wonderful home. Jake will have a problem finding anything that’s as nice as this.”

His half smile sent a glow through her body.

“It’s true—this is the perfect house,” Aunt Karina added. “That’s why when my boys offered to buy me my own place, I turned them down. I live in the garden house.”

“She means the carriage house at the back of the property—in the garden.” Jake smiled indulgently. “And Aunt Karina isn’t really my aunt, she’s Mom’s best friend.”

“But I’m the aunt of your heart, no?”

“Of course.”

“Tina and I raised our boys together.” Aunt Karina pulled a photo from her apron and passed it across the table. “These four handsome boys are mine.”

The two oldest looked familiar. “I met these two at Jake’s party.”

Jake nodded. “Tru and Ike.”

Aunt Karina frowned. “When will you invite me and your mama to your parties?”

“That was the last one. No more parties. I’m focusing on hockey.”

The two older women exchanged a worried look. “You’ll become a dull boy, Jakey. All work and no fun.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed. Clearly, this was not a discussion he wanted to have.

Empathy she didn’t expect tugged at Maggie. Time for a distraction.

“Is that the time?” She shoved the four property sheets in her bag. “We should get a move on if we’re to take a look at these today.”

“Good idea.” With a grateful look, Jake grabbed the lifeline she’d tossed him.

The two women saw them off at the front door, reminding them to take care in the heat.

The car was halfway down the street before Jake turned to Maggie. “Thanks for the bailout. They’re still getting used to the idea that I’m changing things up now I’m home.”

“It’s nice they care so much. You’re lucky.” She heard the wistfulness in her voice and cleared her throat to cover it.

For all his reputation, the way he behaved toward the older women said a lot about him. He was fond of them, but he also respected them.

Jake had treated her with respect, too. It had been a long time since anyone other than her sister had treated her like an equal.

For the first time since she’d agreed to help her sister, the knot of tension eased in Maggie’s gut. Maybe she’d misjudged how difficult this job would be. If Jake continued to be this easy to work with, it would be a piece of cake.

A couple of days house-hunting, a week tops, and she would have completed her first contract. Then, who knew what else she could achieve?

* * *

“YOU’VE NEVER SEEN The Godfather?”

Jake’s shocked expression made Maggie smile as she followed the GPS’s instructions to turn right, the following afternoon. “What is it with blokes and that film?”

“The Godfather is an iconic piece of modern culture.”

“You sound like Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail.”

“Isn’t that a chick flick?” He frowned.

“You’ve never seen You’ve Got Mail?” She widened her eyes.

Jake hitched an eyebrow.

“He calls The Godfather the I-Ching and quotes it to Meg Ryan as lessons for life.”

The GPS interrupted his reply. “Your destination is ahead, on the right.”

The relaxed atmosphere vanished as she pulled up to the last property on the day’s list.

“I hope this house is better than the other five we’ve seen today.” Jake got out of the car.

Maggie tried to quell the flutter in her stomach at his disappointed tone.

Yesterday’s visits had gone well, even though, as expected, the four properties hadn’t been appropriate. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon driving around the area to fine-tune Jake’s housing likes and dislikes. He’d been open and frank, while listening to her suggestions. Driving between houses, they’d chatted about other things—a real conversation, rather than the self-centered monologue she’d expected.

This morning, after a good-natured argument about who would drive, they’d set off to look at some new properties that she and Mimi had selected. Though the first house hadn’t been bad, the places had gone steadily downhill after that.

With each rejected house, Jake’s enthusiasm had waned and turned to frustration.

Turning off the engine, Maggie fought the urge to run away. What kind of example would that set for Emily? If she wanted her daughter to be proud of her, she’d have to brave it out. Besides, she wouldn’t let Tracy down.

A wall of heat and humidity hit her as she got out of the car. The silk underskirt stuck to her legs, making her wish she’d gone for comfort and cool. Could she get rid of her jacket?

She glanced at her outfit. Even without the matching jacket, the beige linen dress was smart. No fancy frippery, apart from the column of bow-shaped buttons down her back. Lee wouldn’t have allowed her out of the house wearing the simple, knee-length style with its modest neckline, but then he hadn’t wanted her to look understated and professional.

Though she’d have preferred a brighter color and a less severe cut, Maggie was still trying to find a style she felt comfortable with. All she knew for sure was it wouldn’t be anything Lee found suitable. She shrugged off her jacket and laid it across the backseat, then gathered her bag and turned.

Jake stood behind her. His rigid stance said he was glaring at her behind his Ray-Bans. “This one doesn’t feel right, either.”

Resisting the unexpected urge to snap at him, she forced a polite smile. “Shall we take a quick look, anyway? We’ve learned a lot from the other places we’ve seen, and it’s all helping us narrow down what you’re after.”

“Let’s get this done.” He nodded sharply, then strode up the path to where Mimi waited by the front door.

How on earth did the older woman maintain her immaculate appearance? Not a silver hair out of place nor a wrinkle in her mint-green pantsuit. Even her smile looked as fresh as it had first thing this morning.

You can do this, Maggie told herself fiercely as she followed him. Inside the foyer, she stopped. Her stomach dropped to her midheeled Marc Jacobs sandals.

Jake was right. The house was awful.

Though normal on the outside, the Dutch Colonial was a nightmare of rooms painted in eye-popping acid colors. Any original features had long since been stripped out. Someone must have doctored the pictures on the property sheet.

“They’ve ruined a great old house.” Mimi shook her head sadly as she led them past the sunken fishpond in the living room to the narrow kitchen with lime-green appliances. “No wonder they dropped the price.”

Maggie stopped by the rear stairs. “Let’s call it a day. We can meet again in the morning when we’ll have other properties for you to look at.”

Jake fixed his ice-blue gaze on her. “This isn’t working. We’re getting nowhere.”

Did that mean he was going to fire her? The internal voice sneered again. Useless.

She injected a cheeriness she didn’t feel into her voice. “I know today’s been disappointing, but there are plenty of other available houses. I’m sure we’ll see something suitable tomorrow.”

“We said at the beginning it would take time to find the perfect place,” Mimi added.

Jake ignored the real-estate agent. “We’re chasing our tails. Nothing we’ve seen has come close to being right.”

Maggie tamped down her irritation. He made it sound like they hadn’t tried, when he was the one who was so hard to please. The mocking internal voice grew louder.

“We understand your frustration,” she said soothingly. “But we’ve come a long way in a day and a half. Give us a bit longer.”

“How much longer?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and glared at her. “Training camp is around the corner. Once that starts, I need to focus on my play, not where I’ll be living.”

“You will,” she promised calmly, even as desperation clawed at her insides.

His arched eyebrow said he doubted it.

She couldn’t lose this contract. He had to give them another chance. “Why don’t we meet tomorrow and go through the properties on the system together? That’ll speed up the process.”

“Great idea. I’ll head to the office and get started.” Mimi shepherded them toward the front of the house.

Jake shrugged, then indicated Maggie should go first.

She walked ahead of him down the hallway, aware of his brooding presence behind her. Far too aware. Her body clearly wasn’t on the same page as her brain. His attitude should have had the same effect as the proverbial bucket of cold water. Why hadn’t it?

Jake’s arm brushed hers as he reached past her to hold open the door.

Maggie’s pulse skipped. She willed her body to toe the line. A few more steps and they would be out of this monstrosity.

There was still the drive to his parents’ place. Enclosed in the confines of the car. Inches away from a pissed-off athlete.

Maggie shivered, then told herself to stop worrying. He’d done nothing to suggest he couldn’t control his temper. Still, when his hand touched the small of her back, she flinched.

Jake dropped his hand, his expression stony.

She waved goodbye to Mimi, then got into the car. He joined her and instantly the interior seemed to shrink as his scent—raw, male and hot—filled her nose. His lean, powerful body crowded her, putting his muscular thigh mere inches from hers.

Neither of them said anything. Forget cutting the tension with a knife, an axe would barely make a dent.

They’d almost reached his parents’ place when nerves got the better of her.

“Look—”

“You know—” They both spoke at once.

They stopped, then glanced at each other. The implacable set of his jaw said he’d reached a decision. One she wouldn’t like.

“Go on.” She licked her suddenly dry lips.

“Ladies first.”

She tried to clear the tightness in her throat, but it sounded like a squeak. “I’m sorry we haven’t found anything suitable yet. I’d be grateful, if you’d give us one more chance.”

“Knock yourself out.”

Maybe it was his patronizing tone that sparked off a long overdue show of defiance. Maybe it was that incessant internal voice that had reached deafening levels. Maybe she was just sick of taking arrogant behavior on the chin for the sake of a quiet life. Regardless, before she could censor her words, she snapped, “Grow up.”

“Excuse me?” The chill in his voice sent a shiver skating down her spine.

Instead of being frozen into submission, she seemed unable to stem the flow of angry words. “You’re as bad as my seven-year-old. ‘I want it and I want it now.’” She mimicked one of Emily’s rare tantrums. “I know sports stars are used to instant gratification, but that’s not how this works. If you genuinely want a place to call home, you’ll have to be patient.”

She didn’t know who was more shocked by her outburst.

His eyes widened a fraction. If his jaw hadn’t been so tight, she was sure it would have dropped. “I see.”

Maggie tried to get her runaway mouth to apologize, to say anything that would rescue the situation. But, having done the damage, it seemed her lips were glued shut. The heat of anger gave way to the pain of misery and defeat.

She’d just cost Tracy the Ice Cats’ contract.


CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS THOSE damn buttons.

Why else would he be behaving like a complete jackass?

Jake knew he’d been out of line all day. He’d never been a prima donna; his parents hadn’t tolerated that kind of behavior and the Jelinek brothers had kept his ego in check.

He was frustrated because the day had been a bust and he was ticked off by the lies in the property sheets. He felt cheated. That last place had been the worst, but every house they’d seen had sugarcoated the truth. He hated liars and cheats.

Jake was also nervous about tonight, when he and Tru would start skating and working out at the Cats’ practice rink. The countdown to training camp had kicked up a notch and for the first time since his rookie season, he was nervous. Questions had buzzed around his brain all last night. What if he’d lost it? What if he was no longer good enough to stay in the NHL?

He’d been giving himself a lecture about working harder and sticking to his plan of no distractions when the biggest damn distraction had walked up his parents’ path.

Today’s ridiculously dull dress was beige. Or biscuit. Or whatever the hell they called pale brown. Her short-sleeved jacket left the lightly tanned skin of her arms bare and emphasized her trim figure. Matching beige-slash-biscuit sling-backs covered her toes.

His pulse had raced faster than a player trying to beat an icing call.

He’d managed to greet her without sounding like an idiot. Then she’d turned and he’d seen them.

Buttons.

Bow-shaped buttons that begged to be undone. Starting at her knees, going up over the curve of her bottom and disappearing under her jacket. He imagined them continuing up her back, tracing her spine like a caress.

His tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth.

The journey to the first house had been torture. Her fresh, clean scent had filled the car. His gaze had slipped constantly to that tantalizing place where her skirt hitched up, showing the smooth skin above her knees. It had gotten worse as the day had progressed, not helped by the fact that she was good company. He’d enjoyed talking with her, even arguing with her.

He’d also wanted to taste those tantalizing lips.

Damn it. That kind of behavior was vintage Bad Boy and exactly what he had to cut out if he wanted to have the best season of his career. Furious, he’d tried to focus on the house-hunting. Easier said than done.

The fire in him had been raging dangerously close to out of control by the time they’d got to the last house. When she’d taken off the jacket, he’d known he was going down for the count. Even the sunken fishpond hadn’t snapped him out of it.

He’d been shocked when Maggie had flinched at his touch and lost it. Her tongue-lashing, though deserved, had surprised the hell out of him. Who knew Miss Prim had so much passion lurking beneath those drab outfits? He gritted his teeth, trying to wipe all thoughts of passion from his brain. As if he wasn’t having a hard enough time...literally.

He owed her an apology. “Maggie?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her frosty tone made her cute English accent sharp enough to slice a puck in half.

“I’ve been a jerk.”

She lifted her head and studied him carefully, distrust in the depths of her gaze.

Why? His reputation might not be great but it didn’t warrant her lack of faith in him. Whatever other failings he had, Jake had always prided himself on being a man of his word. He didn’t let people down.

Except for Adam.

His gut twisted as images from the accident flashed through his mind. He’d tried with Adam. Not as hard as you could have. He forced the dark thoughts away.

“I’ve got stuff going on right now, and I was wrong to take out my frustrations on you.”

She said nothing, her expression hard to read.

“These next few weeks are big for me.” He explained about tonight’s practice but played down his fears, afraid if he voiced them he’d jinx himself. Instead, he focused on the challenge ahead. “All the skating I’ve done since the accident has been part of the healing process. Exercises to break down the scar tissue and tone up my leg. Drills to build my fitness levels. Now I’ll see how I hold up to training with contact.”

As if she sensed the nervousness behind his words, concern shimmered in her eyes.

“The docs have given me the green light, so physically I’m good to go.” He rubbed his thigh, feeling the ridges of scars through the denim. “But I have to be one hundred percent up here.” He tapped his temple. “I can’t afford to be hesitant or duck plays. The coach needs to believe I can deliver my A-game from day one and my teammates need to know they can rely on me to do my job.”

Her expression softened. “That’s a lot of pressure.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, too. I was unprofessional. It won’t happen again.”

Relief whisked through him. “So we’re okay.”

She paused, then nodded. “You’re not going to fire me, even after what I said?”

“You’re right—I was behaving like a child.” While he was clearing the air, he should explain the rest of it. Well, not about the buttons. “I don’t get why folks can’t tell the truth on those property sheets. We’ll find out anyway. I know what to expect now. I’ll look at tomorrow’s houses with a different mind-set.”

The wariness didn’t disappear, but she seemed less tense as she pulled up in front of his parents’ house. “I’ll see you at Mimi’s tomorrow. Will late morning be okay?”

He grinned. “Sure. I need to pick up some new equipment at nine.”

“How about eleven o’clock, then?”

“Perfect.” He opened the door. “Look forward to it.”

“Me, too.” Her soft smile sent a tiny crack through the ice that had encased his heart since Adam’s death.

As she drove off, Jake walked up the path, whistling.

Tru met him at the door. “You ready to skate?”

“Give me five to get changed and grab my stuff.”

Tru was waiting in the kitchen with the two moms when he returned. “Good day?”

“Nightmare.” Jake told them about the places he’d seen.

“It takes time to find a home.” Aunt Karina patted his arm.

“That’s what Maggie says.”

“She’s a sensible girl.” His mom nodded, her expression serious.

“Pretty as a photo, too,” Aunt Karina added.

“Picture, Mom,” Tru corrected, smiling. “Pretty as a picture,”

Aunt Karina shrugged. “Picture, photo. Is the same, no?”

“Sure.” Before either mom could expand on the subject of Maggie, Jake said, “Gotta hit the road.”

They tossed their gear in the back of Tru’s Range Rover and set off. They’d barely gone a mile before his friend asked, “How’s it going with the lovely Maggie?”

“Okay. It’s harder than I thought to find the right place.”

“That wasn’t what I meant. Have you asked her out yet?”

“Why would I do that?”

Tru quirked an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“How many more times do I have to say it? No more women.”

“Yeah, yeah. But Maggie isn’t like your other women.”

“She’s still a distraction I don’t need.” No way he was telling Tru how much of a distraction. “Besides, she looks like the type who wants a serious relationship. And she has a kid.” He stopped, not wanting to overcook his objections. “I sure as hell can’t deal with that now. Maybe next June, after we’ve won the Cup.”

His friend shook his head sadly. “You’re throwing out the baby with the bathwater.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re cutting everything but hockey out of your life. Why? Most NHL players have a life outside hockey.”

Jake glared at him.

“You can’t keep punishing yourself over the crash,” his friend said quietly. “Adam’s death wasn’t your fault. He couldn’t handle that new Porsche. There was nothing you could have done.”

The pain that sliced through Jake’s gut was as acute as if the accident had been last night, not six months ago. “That’s the point—I did nothing. I was more interested in getting to that party and the twin puck bunnies than finding out what was wrong with Adam.”

The truth was he hadn’t wanted to do anything. He’d been fed up with his friend’s volatile, irrational behavior—laughing and joking one minute and erupting angrily the next. Been annoyed that it had affected Adam’s play, making him unreliable. Instead of trying to get to the bottom of his friend’s problems, especially when the media and the fans had been brutal about Adam’s inconsistency, Jake had ignored them, hoping they’d go away.

Some friend he’d been. And Adam had paid the price.

“You weren’t the only one. The whole team, even his roommate, had lost patience with him.” Tru punched his arm. “You aren’t in the cape-and-tights league, bro.”

Jake’s bitter laugh was humorless. “Adam’s funeral made that damn clear.”

He recalled that miserable day. Mrs. Stewart weeping over her son’s coffin. Mr. Stewart looking bewildered. Adam’s roommate, Nick, avoiding Jake, like he blamed him for Adam’s death. Those damn display boards, cataloging every year of Adam’s too-short life and every stage of his too-short hockey career. Each one a heartrending reminder of what a good man Adam had been.

And how worthless Jake was.

“There, but for the grace of God and a seat belt,” he muttered.

“You’re not giving me that crap about how it should have been you?”

“Nah. Haven’t you heard? Only the good die young.”

“Don’t turn Adam into a saint. He was human, with faults like the rest of us. He nearly killed you in that accident.”

“If it’d been me—” Jake held up a hand to forestall Tru’s objection “—what kind of tributes would I have had? Nothing to make anyone proud of me.” His chest tightened.

Tru snorted with disgust. “Can the pity party. To paraphrase Saint Adam, most guys would give a left nut to have one night in your shoes. You’re always the same—all or nothing. When you set yourself a goal, it’s impossible to get you to veer from the path.” Tru calmed his tone. “Single-minded determination is great, but not for your personal life. There has to be a middle ground.”

Jake couldn’t imagine what that would be. “Like what?”

“Ditching the parties and other wild stuff is fine, but what’s wrong with dating a nice woman?”

“I told you, it’ll be a distraction.” Despite himself, however, a hint of doubt crept into Jake’s mind.

He’d always had women skating in and out of his life like players on a shift change. Women who’d relished his lifestyle as much as he had. He’d never dated one woman steadily, let alone someone ordinary, like Maggie. How would that even work?

Tru continued, “Having a good woman in your life and in your bed is a great way to balance out the stress. Hell, if I found someone like that I’d grab her in a heartbeat.”

Jake frowned at the hint of wistfulness in his friend’s voice, but their arrival at the rink ended the conversation. As they skated drills, he mulled over Tru’s suggestion.

Would dating the right woman be so bad?

In the past, Jake would have shuddered at the thought of making a commitment. He would have been horrified at the quiet life he planned to have now.

Yet neither prospect filled him with the dread they once would have. Maybe because he knew nothing could be worse than the alternative he’d escaped. He still had a choice about how to live his life. Adam sure as hell didn’t.

He pulled up sharply, his angled skates created a showering arc of ice. Maggie was nothing like the women in his past. For sure, she wouldn’t tempt him into his old ways.

Taking a pass from Tru, Jake fired a puck at the practice net, pumping his stick in the air in celebration when he scored. Maybe he should give dating Maggie a shot.

What did he have to lose?

* * *

“HOW ARE THINGS going with Jake?”

Though Tracy’s question was, on the surface, innocent enough, Maggie fought to control a blush. “Fine.”

She focused on her notes, hoping her sister wouldn’t notice, though it was hard to avoid Tracy’s curious gaze when sitting beside her bed.

There were still two days left of the promised week of bed rest, and allowing Tracy to work for a few hours each day was the only way to stop her from going stir-crazy. Twice-daily update sessions were the only way, short of handcuffing Tracy to the bed, to keep her from going downstairs.

This morning’s review had gone smoothly. Until now.

“No more problems after that little bust up?” Tracy put aside her laptop.

“Not really.” Maggie wasn’t about to admit how much her growing attraction to Jake troubled her. No matter how many times she talked sternly to herself, one sniff of his clean, masculine scent or the warm brush of his hand against the small of her back and her pulse danced. As often as she reminded herself of how wrong he was for her, temptation would try to override her caution. Tantalizing her to relax her guard against this bad boy.

What harm could it do?

Too bloody much. Didn’t she have the physical and emotional scars to prove it? No way could Maggie consider taking that dangerous path again.

Tracy cut into her thoughts. “I sense a but.”

“The house hunt is going in circles.” Her lips twisted. “I’m letting you down.”

“It’s not your fault the right place isn’t out there. Give it a little longer. You never know when the ideal house will be listed.”

“But training camp is imminent. The Ice Cats won’t be happy if I don’t deliver on time.”

“Actually, the Cats are very pleased with how you’re managing Jake’s requirements. They’ve even asked me to take on another player, a guy they’re bringing in from the Swedish Elite League. Thanks to your efforts to bring my admin stuff up to date, too, I was able to say yes.” Tracy leaned against the pillows with a satisfied smile. “I can almost taste that retainer.”

“That’s great. Are you sure you don’t want to take over with Jake?”

“I’ll have my hands full with this Swedish guy. Bringing in an overseas player is complicated because he hasn’t got a credit history. Signing him up for basics like electricity is a nightmare. Besides, like I said, you’re doing a good job.” Tracy’s gaze sharpened. “Is Jake giving you a hard time?”

“No. He’s lived up to his promise.” She paused, then admitted, “He’s not what I expected. He’s actually pretty good company.”

“Really?” Her sister arched an eyebrow.

“He talks about something other than sports, for a start. He’s not patronizing and he doesn’t mind if my opinion differs from his. I can say what I think and he’ll listen.”

“He’s hot, too.” Tracy grinned.

“He’s a client.” Maggie kept her voice steady. “All he’s interested in is finding a house, and all I’m interested in is ensuring he’s happy with our service, so you get that contract.”

“Once that’s done, you could still have a little fun with him.”

“I had my fun and suffered for it. Worse, so did Emily.”

Though she’d fiercely protected her daughter from Lee’s physical abuse, the emotional strain had taken a toll on Emily. Maggie’s throat tightened as she recalled how her bright, bubbly daughter had grown more withdrawn every time Lee had gone on a rampage. How she’d clung to Maggie, never wanting her to be out of sight. As if she’d known he wouldn’t hit her mother if she was there. At least until that final, awful night. “I won’t let her suffer again.”

“Sweetie, I know how much you both suffered. The last thing I want is for you ever to be in that situation again.” Tracy took hold of Maggie’s hand. “But you can’t let that stop you from ever going out with another guy.”

“I won’t.” Maggie squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’m just not ready yet. Even if I was, Jake’s totally the wrong guy for me.”

“There’s a wrong guy for having fun with?”

“There is for me. No more sports stars. No more rich and famous. It took a long time to learn the lesson, but I’ve learned it well.”

“I’ve never heard even a hint of anything bad about Jake. Women tend to gush about how wonderful he is.”

“Still, he’s not for me. He’s a hockey hard man who makes his living fighting and hitting.” She doubted anyone who displayed the cold-blooded aggression she’d seen in the video clips online—okay, so she’d done a Google search—could turn it off in other areas of his life. Lee certainly couldn’t.

No matter how much she liked Jake or how her body reacted to him, Maggie couldn’t afford to take a risk on him. Not just for her sake, but for Emily’s.

“When the time is right, I’ll start dating again. Assuming I can find the right kind of man.”

Tracy studied her carefully. “All right,” she said finally. “In the meantime, can you at least get rid of those dreary outfits?”

Maggie stiffened. “They might be plain, but they’re smart. You hardly want me in full WAG gear when I’m dealing with your clients.”

“You don’t need to dress like a dowager duchess, either.”

Though her sister was right, the comment still stung. “It’s not perfect, but it feels better than the way I used to dress.”

“You mean the way Lee insisted you dress—everything short, low cut and clinging, showing as much skin as possible and covered in bling.”

“You know, I loved it in the beginning. I had no clue how to dress, and he bought me stuff most girls dreamed of having.” Especially the naive eighteen-year-old she had been. He’d showered her with the latest fashions, the most expensive designers. The media lapped it up. “He made sure my picture was always in the press. It was all good...until I wanted to change. To be less flashy and outrageous. Less...”

Tracy sniffed derisively. “Tarty.”

Maggie half shrugged sadly. “I didn’t want to give up the designer clothes. Just find my own style, something more modest. He disagreed. And it was...easier...to give in.”

Tracy’s description of Maggie’s ex was coarse and pointed.

“Anyway, Lee doesn’t dictate my wardrobe now.”

“He may not handpick your outfits, but he’s still influencing the way you dress. You’ve gone to the opposite extreme. Other than your shoes, there’s not a high-end label in sight. The styles are fine, but the colors are boring.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I’m not being mean,” her sister said gently. “I just think you could find something that’s more you. Don’t you miss wearing designer clothes?”

“Of course,” she admitted reluctantly.

“You sound like you’re confessing to a terrible crime. Who doesn’t like wearing nice things?” Tracy grinned. “With matching shoes, naturally.”

Maggie’s answering smile faded. “But it’s a slippery slope.”

It would be so easy to slide into that life again. First the clothes, then the glamorous parties and events. But the price to be paid was one she couldn’t afford.

“One step at a time. Let’s change some outfits before we start worrying about the red carpet and the paparazzi. I’ll help you keep your feet on the ground.”

It would be nice to spread her wings a little, fashionwise. Maybe simply wearing what she liked would be enough that the rest of that seductive lifestyle wouldn’t call to her. “I could give it a try.”

“Great. You can start by ditching anything beige, gray or brown. Try flowers, polka dots, stripes—anything but plain. What about those pretty summer dresses you brought with you?”

“I thought they’d be too casual, but if you’re sure they’re okay, I’ll wear them. They’ll definitely be more comfortable in this heat. Speaking of which—” Maggie checked her watch “—I’m meeting Jake at Mimi’s office in an hour for another trawl through the listings.”

“I bet he’ll find those dresses more attractive, too.”

“I won’t dress to impress Jake.” Maggie frowned. “Worrying about his reaction is no different to worrying about Lee’s.”

“All right. Point made.” Tracy held her hands up in mock surrender. “Then wear it to impress yourself. Now shoo and get changed. That’s an order.”

“Yes, boss.”

Maggie had to admit, half an hour later, the cheerful, pink flowers all over her cotton summer dress made her feel brighter, putting a spring in her step as she headed next door to say goodbye to Emily.

Though her daughter was more interested in the fort she was building with Amy, she stopped long enough to pass comment on what Maggie was wearing.

“You look really pretty, Mummy.” She hugged Maggie, then dashed off.

It warmed her heart to see Emily back to her normal, sunny self. Walking to her car, Maggie marveled at how easily her daughter had adjusted to her new life. Time for her to take a page from Emily’s book—get on with living her life, her way.

She just had to work out what her way was.

When she arrived at Mimi’s office, Jake was leaning against his SUV, talking on his cell. Maggie waved cheerfully.

Her smile faded as he scowled, then shook his head sharply. Her heart pinched, even as she told herself this wasn’t the past. Jake wouldn’t take his anger out on her. She ignored the tiny voice inside that reminded her of his behavior at the house with the fishpond.

“Damn it. I don’t have time for this.” Smack!

Maggie tried not to flinch as he slammed his palm against the side of his SUV. She tried to tamp down the flutters of panic in her stomach as she backed away slowly, inching toward the door of Mimi’s office building.

“I said no.” Smack!

She froze, her pulse skittering. Memories of that last night with Lee flashed through her mind. The past merged with the present.

Jake paced. Her eyes followed his angry movements, watching for the first sign that his ire had switched to her.

He turned and stepped toward her. Fury blazed in his ice-blue eyes. He said nothing, but his clenched fist was message enough.


CHAPTER FOUR

“I DON’T care how much money Adam owed you, I won’t let you cash in on his death.”

Jake’s grip on his cell phone tightened as he pounded his other fist on his thigh. Nick’s plan disgusted him.

“Come on, man,” Adam’s former roommate whined. “Fans pay crazy money on eBay for hockey memorabilia. His stuff is just lying around the apartment in boxes.”

“Give it all to charity, like the Stewarts wanted.”

“That was only a suggestion. Adam’s parents said I could do what I wanted with it.”

“I don’t think an online yard sale was what they had in mind.” Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to lose what little remained of his temper. “If you don’t want to take the boxes with you to L.A., have them sent to me.”

“So you can keep all the money for yourself.”

“No, damn it. I’ve told you, I don’t want any part of your sick scheme.”

“Your loss. I only offered you a chance to get in on the deal because I felt sorry for you.”

There was no reasoning with the guy. Though Jake hated to resort to threats, he knew it was the only language Nick would understand. “You touch anything in those boxes and I’ll tell the Hawks and the Kings what you’re doing.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Despite the bravado in Nick’s voice, there was an underlying thread of nervousness. “Besides, they wouldn’t believe you. Not when I tell them you’re having a breakdown because of your guilt over Adam’s death.”

The malicious jab stole Jake’s breath as effectively as if Nick had speared him in the gut with his stick. He rode the pain for a few moments, then used it to fuel his determination. No way he’d let Nick auction off Adam’s memory for a few lousy bucks.

“I’m warning you, if you try to sell even one item, I will personally see to it your career is over. You won’t even be able to ride a bus in the minors.”

Nick’s laugh had a desperate ring. “You don’t have that kind of influence.”

“You’d be surprised how quickly I could spread the word. Guys get mad when they think someone is taking advantage. Do you really want to be the target of their anger?”

Jake’s words hung menacingly in the air.

Nick swore. “Fine. You want his stuff so badly, you come and collect it. You’ve got one week. After that, everything goes in the nearest Dumpster.”

The last thing Jake wanted was to have to deal with Adam’s things. He didn’t need to be reminded that he was a pale shadow of the man his friend had been. He sure as hell didn’t need to be reminded of how he’d let Adam down.

It had been bad enough living in Chicago, surrounded by memories of coming up from the minors together, being drafted together, winning and losing together. Since he’d moved home, he’d finally begun to come to terms with what had happened. Not a day passed that he didn’t remember and regret, but he’d managed some semblance of peace.

Nick’s demand had shattered that fragile peace and ripped open still-raw wounds.

Jake had no choice. He owed Adam that much. “You make damn sure everything is still there—every last sock, button and scrap of paper. Screw with me and you’ll regret it.”

He hung up and jammed his cell into the front pocket of his jeans, then smacked the flat of his hand against his M-Class.

Damn Nick. Jake had never understood why Nick and Adam had been so close. Adam was a good, honest, hardworking guy. Nick took shortcuts, looked for the easy way. This was a new low.

Jake scrubbed his hand over his jaw and tried to calm his anger.

A flutter of pink reminded him Maggie was here. He forced himself to shove the problem to the back of his mind—he didn’t want to spoil the afternoon.

The thought of huddling around Mimi’s computer, the warmth of Maggie’s soft skin so close, was enough to make his pulse pound with frustration of a different kind.

Where would the buttons be today? His groin tightened as he recalled yesterday’s Chinese-style gray dress. The knotted silk buttons had started at the base of her throat and trailed their way across her left breast. Enough!

He turned toward Maggie.

What the hell...?

She stood by the door to the building, staring at him, her hand across her mouth. Her ashen skin made her brown eyes look even darker.

She looked scared.

Confused, he stepped toward her.

He halted abruptly when she pressed herself against the door.

“Maggie?”

Her lips trembled, even as her chin tilted defiantly.

What was her problem? Like a slow-mo replay, he reviewed the past few minutes—his anger, his threats, his actions—then swore silently, as he realized Maggie was scared.

Of him.

She probably believed that clichéd crap about hockey players being violent because they played a physical game. Sure, he’d fought off the ice in the past, but only because some knucklehead had thrown a punch to prove how tough he was. Jake hadn’t fought in anger since he was a kid. And he’d never, ever, hit a woman.

Maggie wouldn’t know that. He had to put her at ease. Slowly, he raised his hands, palm out, to show he meant no harm.

“Are you okay?” He kept his voice calm and low.

She stilled, nodding sharply. Her dark brown eyes never left him.

Perhaps he should explain. “That was a former teammate on the Blackhawks—Nick. He used to share an apartment with Adam. I guess you know I was injured in a car accident?”

She nodded again, watching him warily.

“My friend Adam...it was Adam’s car. He was driving. He lost control and—” he coughed to clear the lump in his throat “—was killed.”

The bald statement left a bitter taste, but Maggie didn’t need to know about Adam’s weird behavior on that drive. His trembling fingers on the gearshift, the sweat beading on his forehead. How he’d veered between moods as wildly as he’d swerved between lanes.

She also didn’t need to know Jake had deliberately ignored the signs Adam was troubled because he’d cared more about getting to the party than finding out what was wrong.

Maggie’s expression softened slightly. The sadness in her eyes hardened his emotions. Jake didn’t want, or deserve, her sympathy.

He stepped closer. Her body remained tense but she didn’t flinch.

“Nick’s been traded to L.A.” He quickly explained the bastard’s demands to Maggie. “With house-hunting and training camp about to start, the timing sucks. But I have to rescue Adam’s stuff.”

Maggie’s shoulders had loosened a little as she’d listened to him. When he was done, she said quietly, “May I make a suggestion?”

Damn, the way she bit her lip like that said she was still nervous about him. “Sure.”

“I could arrange for a packer to go in and collect Adam’s boxes, then have them delivered when you find a house.” Her voice grew stronger. “It’ll save you the trip.”

Adam’s things would be safely out of Nick’s reach and he wouldn’t have to deal with them until he was ready. A huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

He smiled. “You’re a lifesaver. Thanks, Maggie.”

“All part of the service.” She reached in her bag for her ever-present pad. “If you write down the necessary information, I’ll sort it out.”

Jake was returning her pad when Mimi pushed through the door.

“There you are. Come in out of this heat.”

“Be right there.” Maggie slipped the pad into her purse and joined the real-estate agent.

As he followed her to Mimi’s office, Maggie’s stiff body language reminded him of what had happened earlier, her fearful reaction to his anger. His mind began to whir with images of other incidents—her jittery behavior at their first meeting, her defensiveness when he’d challenged her, the way she’d flinched when he’d touched her in that damn house with the fishpond. Were her reactions more than concern about an aggressive hockey player? Was something in her past coloring her judgment? Had someone treated her badly?

It made a strange kind of sense.

Fury surged within him at the thought of anyone mistreating her, but he tamped it down. That wouldn’t help either of them. He’d just have to be careful how he acted with her.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than guilt twisted Jake’s stomach.

Who was he kidding? He’d let Adam down, a guy he’d been friends with nearly all his life. What the hell made him think he could do better with a woman he’d known for a few weeks and whose past could involve problems more serious than the pressures of the NHL?

On the surface, Maggie appeared to be the perfect woman for him to date. But if he was right, what lay beneath made things a whole lot more complicated. Despite the sizzling attraction, complicated was a distraction he didn’t need.

More importantly, he wasn’t the right man for Maggie. She didn’t need a man she’d always doubt because of his career. A man whose emotions were still too raw, as his argument with Nick had shown. Maggie needed someone she could count on to be there for her. Not one who doubted himself.

“Are you ready, Jake?” Mimi’s voice cut through the tumult inside him.

Realizing he still stood in the doorway, he cleared his head, then went to sit in a chair in front of Mimi’s computer.

Maggie kept her distance, leaning against the desk instead of sitting beside him, as she usually did. A new tension hummed in the air between them.

“What have you got?” he asked.

“There are two new properties.” Mimi clicked on the local listings. “The split-level is nice, but nothing special. I think you’ll like the other one, though.”

She was right about the first house. He leaned forward to check out the second. His pulse quickened at the picture of the elegant Victorian. Jake hoped the on-screen details weren’t exaggerated. From the wraparound porch and the dark green shutters to the white picket fence and the large yard full of old trees, this house was everything he’d hoped for.

This one felt right.

Before he could stop himself, he looked up to see what Maggie thought. Their eyes locked. His heart stuttered. Excitement zinged through his veins.

Then the hesitance in her gaze registered, making his body stiffen.

Deliberately, he turned away.

“Looks great, Mimi.” He grinned at the agent. “I have a real good feeling about this one. I want to go and see it ASAP. When can you fix something up?”

“I’ll make an appointment for tomorrow morning. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Tomorrow morning’s good for me, too.” Maggie leaned over to direct his attention to the large den.

Heat rushed through him as her scent teased his nostrils. Sparks shot up his arm where her fingertips brushed him.

Damn it. He had to get out of here.

He pushed back the chair and stood. “Are we done?”

Both women looked startled by his abrupt tone.

“Uh, yes.” Mimi sent a questioning look at Maggie, who nodded.

Jake’s goodbye skated the edges of politeness. He didn’t draw a steady breath until he pulled into his parents’ drive.

Turning off the ignition, he slumped in his seat. Back to square one. Well, maybe square one and a half—the house did look perfect. That, and hockey, was enough for now.

Finding the perfect woman would just have to wait.

* * *

BY THE TIME Maggie pulled into Tracy’s driveway, she was drained and weary.

The afternoon’s emotional roller coaster had left her as wrung out as a damp dishcloth. The throb over her left eye warned of a looming tension headache. She rested her head on the steering wheel, trying to summon up the energy to get out of the car and go into the house.

If she’d needed any more reasons for why Jake Badoletti was wrong for her, the incident at Mimi’s office had provided plenty.

She wasn’t a fool. She knew Jake wasn’t Lee. There was something about him, his character and his values, that set him apart from her ex. She’d barely known him a week, had hardly scratched the surface of who he was, yet the differences were clearly visible.

Sadly, the similarities were clearly visible, too. His quick temper when things didn’t go his way, the sudden switches from charming to furious to cold indifference and back again.

Patterns of behavior that, this time, she wouldn’t...couldn’t ignore.

Tap, tap.

She jerked upright. Emily stood next to the car.

Maggie opened the car door and gave her daughter a tired smile.

“You’re too old to have a nap, Mummy.” As usual, Emily looked like she’d been through the wars. A bandage on one knee and mud stains on her shorts.

“You’re never too old to need a nap.” Maggie plucked a leaf out of one loose braid. “When you get to be as old as me, you’ll look forward to an afternoon snooze.”

“I don’t want to be that old, ever.” Emily grinned. “I want to show you the fort Amy and me made.”

Maggie allowed her daughter to pull her out of the car. If only they could bottle Emily’s energy—her ancient body could use the boost. She massaged her aching temple, then plastered a cheery expression on her face.

Emily wasn’t fooled. “Are you all right, Mummy?” Her wide-eyed gaze swept Maggie from head to toe. “Did that Mr. Bad Boy hurt you?”

Her shaky words drove a dagger into Maggie’s heart. “No one hurt me. I had a busy afternoon and probably did too much in this horrid heat.”

Concern furrowed Emily’s brow, making her look older than her years.

Maggie damned herself for not having had the courage to leave her marriage sooner. For not realizing the emotional damage Lee had done to their daughter. Though he hadn’t laid a hand on his daughter until that final night, she’d borne witness to too much. Maggie would never let that kind of ugliness touch Emily’s life again.

That’s why a relationship with Jake wasn’t worth it. Ensuring her daughter was happy, healthy and safe was far more important than whatever fun she could have with him.

She hugged Emily. “I’m okay.” She tried to sound normal, but her voice came out reedy.

Emily’s arms tightened around her. “Don’t worry, Mummy.” She looked up, her expression fierce. “I’ll take care of you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Maggie’s eyes burned. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, either.”

For several moments, they stood there silently. Maggie drew comfort from her daughter’s warm, slight frame and her strength and courage. Emily was coping with this mess far better than she was.

That had to change. Starting now.

Pulling herself together, Maggie straightened. “Let’s see your wonderful fort.”

Emily shook her head. “Later. Right now, you need chocolate.”

“You’re right. Chocolate will make me feel good as new.”

Holding hands, they skipped to the house. They burst into the kitchen, laughing.

“We need chocolate, Auntie Tracy.” Emily dashed to the fridge, delved beneath the lettuce in the salad drawer and brandished a half bar in its distinctive purple wrapper.

Tracy looked up from her laptop, as Maggie sank into a chair opposite her at the kitchen table. “Why do you need some of my chocolate?”

“Mummy had a tiring day.” Emily lowered her voice conspiratorially as she doled out the Cadbury bar. “I think Mr. Bad Boy wasn’t very nice to her.”

Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“Emily’s exaggerating.”

“I bet Mummy sorted him out.”

“I hope so.”

Emily read the tension humming in the air and sighed. “Can I go back to Amy’s?”

Before Maggie had finished nodding, Emily had raced out the door. She was probably as keen to miss the rest of the conversation as her mother.

Maggie tried to preempt the storm brewing in her sister’s expression. “Jake didn’t do anything to me. He was cross about something. I misunderstood and overreacted.”

“Are you sure that’s all there was to it? You look terrible.”

“He was arguing with a former teammate.” She paused, trying to be honest. “I was scared he’d take that anger out on me. But he didn’t.”

She explained about Nick wanting to auction off Adam’s things and her suggestion to resolve the issue.

Tracy relaxed. “Okay. But if Jake ever scares you, I’ll make a formal complaint to the Cats. No contract is worth that kind of behavior.”

“Thanks, but this was more my fault than his.”

“Isn’t that what they all say?”

Maggie winced as her sister’s point jabbed home. “I suppose if I say this is different, you’ll repeat that comment.”

“Too bloody right. I was too far away to help you with Lee, but I won’t let anything happen to you here.”

“There was nothing you could have done. I had to decide to leave and find the strength and courage to follow through.”

“I know, but if I’d only...”

“No point rehashing the ifs and buts, sis. I have enough guilt of my own. Let’s not add yours into the mix, too.”

Tracy gave a shaky laugh. “All bets are off if Jake or anyone else tries to hurt you.”

“Same goes.” Maggie squeezed her sister’s hand.

“That reminds me—Samantha called.”

“My solicitor? Did she say what she wanted?” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Samantha rarely called unless something important had come up.

“Lee wants to speak to you.”

“What? But why?” Maggie hated that she sounded small and weak.

“She didn’t say, just asked you to call in the morning, as she’s in court today.”

Maggie tried to figure out what her ex could want. “It doesn’t make sense. He moved on the minute the ink was dry on our divorce decree.” In truth, he’d moved on long before that.

“I’ll say. According to the press, it’s been a nonstop parade of it girls for the past nine months. I hear his latest is an actress from one of the afternoon soaps, Patty something.”

A terrifying thought occurred. “What if he’s changed his mind about Emily?”

Tracy dismissed her words with a flick of her hand. “He’s always said he didn’t want the responsibility. That having a child around would ruin his social life. He didn’t blink about signing the letter of consent for her to come to the U.S.”

“But the custody agreement gives him the right to see her three times a year.” A shiver ran through her. “I knew this would be a problem. I didn’t want to agree, but Samantha said it would work in my favor if I showed I wasn’t trying to keep Emily from him. The courts are very keen for a child to have contact with both parents.” Her throat closed, so her voice was barely a whisper. “I can’t stop him from seeing her.”

“He’s made no effort to see Emily in nearly a year. I can’t imagine why he’d suddenly feel the need to play daddy dearest.” Tracy passed her a chunk of chocolate. “I’m sure it’s just another stupid mind game. Don’t give him that power over you.”

Maggie inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. “You’re right. I’m probably worrying over nothing. I’ll wait and see what Samantha has to say tomorrow.”

“That’s the Maggie we know and love.” Tracy smiled.

“I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“Hey, it’s you and me against the world.” Her sister got up to make some tea. “Speaking of which, are we any closer to finding what Bad Boy wants?”

“I’m hopeful we have a winner.” Maggie explained about the newly listed Victorian and their appointment the following morning. “He seemed pleased.”

Her heart jolted as she recalled the moment when her eyes had met Jake’s as they’d read the online property sheet. For that instant, the connection between them had felt almost tangible. Seconds later, he’d blanked her—the fire in his eyes extinguished. She should have been relieved, but his obvious desire to get away had left her feeling oddly disappointed.

Her complicated reaction to Jake made her glad this project was nearly over. If he liked the house, the number of times she’d see him again would be limited. The rest of their business could be conducted by phone or email. And, though the house was in the same town, the chances of them running into each other would be small.

Her life could return to the simpler plan she’d intended. She’d focus on her daughter and her role at Making Your Move and forget about Bad Boy.

Maggie’s chest twinged. Must be indigestion. It certainly wasn’t anything to do with the thought of not seeing Jake again.

She ignored the laughing voice inside her, which disagreed.

* * *

“IT’S ALL RIGHT,” Maggie reassured her friend Janice the following morning. “I can make other arrangements for Emily. Your mum needs you. I hope she gets better soon.”

Unfortunately, finding another babysitter wasn’t as simple as she’d thought, and there was no activity camp. Tracy was meeting the new Swedish player, so Maggie had no choice but to take Emily with her.

Her stomach twisted nervously. Jake wouldn’t mind. Would he?

The house visit wouldn’t take long. She’d keep Emily out of his way. Besides, Mimi would be there, too.

The real-estate agent was on her phone, dealing with a client, when they arrived. Maggie was surprised to see Mimi fighting to keep her cool. Though her lemon pantsuit and elegant hairdo were still immaculate, the older woman’s lips were pinched and her cheeks flushed. How did she manage to sound polite when her client was giving her a horrid time? Maggie would have lost patience long ago.

Rolling her eyes, Mimi mouthed an apology and waved her inside.

As Maggie and Emily toured the house, her daughter’s attention was caught by the turret bedroom that reminded her of a princess room. She begged to be allowed to stay there and play with the black cat lounging on the four-poster bed. With strict instructions not to go wandering while Jake was being shown around, Maggie left Emily there and continued to check out the house.

The gorgeous Victorian more than lived up to its billing. The bright, spacious rooms were filled with charming period features: gleaming parquet floors, carved ceiling roses with brass chandeliers and stunning fireplaces with oak mantels.

“Not a fishpond in sight.” Mimi laughed, as she joined Maggie in the master bedroom. “Sorry about that call. Some clients can’t stand not being in control of every stage of a negotiation. Hopefully I stopped him from making an ass of himself.”

“I don’t know how you keep your cool with people yelling at you like that.”

“Years of experience.”

While they walked around the house making notes, Mimi regaled her with tales of some of her worst clients. Even as Maggie laughed, she was relieved she wouldn’t have any more client contact once she got Jake sorted out.

The real-estate agent’s phone rang again as Jake’s SUV pulled up in front of the house.

Mimi checked the display, raised her eyes heavenward and muttered, “Give me strength.” She gave Maggie an apologetic smile. “I have to take this. I’ll join you shortly.”

“No problem.” Maggie tried to calm her jittery pulse. “Jake’s looking around outside, so you have time.”

As Mimi left the room to return her call, Maggie watched as Jake walked down the driveway, taking in the large front yard, complete with requisite trees. Even from up here, she could tell he liked what he saw. She let out a silent sigh of relief.

“Kitty!” Feet thundered down the stairs.

“Not outside,” Maggie called out.

The screen door slammed. Too late. Turning toward the window, she saw Jake stop and face the noise. She tried to move, to go after Emily, but her feet were frozen in place.

This time, the hitch in her pulse had nothing to do with the appeal of the bad-boy hockey player. It was pure dread of how he’d react to the seven-year-old charging toward him. Interrupting him. Being there without his permission.

Memories of another time, another place, hammered into her brain. She had to get to Emily. To protect her. She would not let him lay a hand on her daughter.

Her nails bit into her palms as she forced her body to get past the foreboding that chilled her inside. She broke free of the grip her fear had on her and raced out of the room.

Please, God, keep my daughter safe!


CHAPTER FIVE

THE OLD VICTORIAN was perfect.

Jake stood on the sidewalk looking at the house. Strong and solid, its elegance was a proud testament to its history and a promise for its future. Not just somewhere to live, but a home.

The neighborhood was quiet. The big yard was mainly grass, with flower-filled borders and lots of mature trees. Dark green shutters and gingerbread trim offset the white siding and the multipaned windows. Who could resist that wraparound porch? If the inside was half as good as the outside, this would be the perfect base for his new life.

A shadow in an upstairs window reminded him that Maggie was waiting.

His heart jumped. Despite his determination not to think about her, she’d been on his mind and in his dreams all night. He may have decided Maggie wouldn’t be a distraction anymore, but his brain and body seemed to have other ideas. It hadn’t helped that his mom had badgered him this morning to invite Maggie to their annual Labor Day barbecue.

“Kitty! Come back.” A child’s voice cut into his thoughts.

A little girl barreled down the front steps, a determined expression on her face. A flash of black streaked past him and over the road. The kid followed as fast as her short legs could carry her.

At the edge of his vision, a silver Lexus turned into the street. He frowned. The driver was on her cell phone.

The little girl hurried past. Fear shot through him as he realized she hadn’t spotted the car; her attention was fixed on the elusive cat.

In a move that would have made a goaltender proud, Jake turned and scooped her off her feet as she was about to step off the curb. “Whoa, Short Stuff.”

The driver sped by.

The curly-haired imp kicked him. “Let me go. Kitty’s getting away.”

As he set her down, keeping a watchful eye in case she darted onto the road, he noticed the English accent. His pulse gave an odd little skip as he recognized her dark eyes and the shape of her nose. This must be Maggie’s daughter.

Despite her frown, there was a precocious glint in the girl’s eye. “Mummy doesn’t let me talk to strangers.”

“I’ll bet she doesn’t allow you onto the street by yourself, either.” He bit back a smile at her pout. “You nearly got run over because you weren’t looking where you were going.”

Maggie came rushing out of the house. The bodice of her flowery cotton-and-lace dress clung to her curves, while the skirt floated around her long legs. Unlike the prim outfits she’d been wearing, the soft fabric enhanced her shapely figure. The roses on the material matched the heightened color in her cheeks.

His mouth went dry at the blue flower-shaped buttons running down the front, from the scooped neckline to the hem of her skirt. Undo them and the dress would likely fall open. Jake swallowed hard, forcing aside the image of creamy skin that flashed in his head.

“Emily Marie Goodman, I told you to stay in the house.” Maggie’s glossy braid bounced as she hurried toward them. “If it wasn’t for Mr. Badoletti, you could have been hurt.”

“But Kitty went over the road. I had to save her.” She batted her eyes at her mother.

The “innocent” expression didn’t work. “Rules are rules. We have them to keep you safe. Say thank you to Mr. Badoletti and go back inside.”

The little girl looked as if she might argue, but thought better of it. “Thank you, Mister...” She paused, glaring at him suspiciously. “Are you Mr. Bad Boy?”

Unsure how to respond to her sudden antagonism, he smiled. “You can call me Jake.”

“Are you the one who was mean to Mummy?”

His smile faded. How the heck was he supposed to answer that? It was like that old no-win question: Are you still beating your wife? Why would Emily think he’d been mean to her mother anyway?

“Um, no. Not...” He faltered, recalling the incident at Mimi’s office.

Maggie fixed her daughter with a stern look. “Emily!”

“Thank you, Mr. Bad Boy.” The imp’s tone was grudging. She trotted up the path and went into the house. He and Maggie winced in unison as the screen door slammed.

As she turned back, Jake noticed the same wariness in her expression as he’d seen after his argument with Nick. The same hint of fear in her dark brown eyes. The same rigid tension in her body. What was she worried about?

“Cute kid.” He smiled, trying to put her at ease.

His smile had as little effect on Maggie as it had on her daughter. She watched him cautiously, her gaze assessing, as if she didn’t trust his reaction.

“I’m so sorry. Emily usually does as she’s told. The arrangements I’d made for her fell through this morning. Medical emergency.” Her words quickened and her voice rose in pitch. “I thought it would be okay to bring her with me.”

“No problem,” Jake interjected before she wound herself up any further. “Shi...stuff happens. Any kid would be distracted by a cat.”

“Thank you for catching her. I promise she won’t be any further bother.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

She studied him carefully. After a couple of moments, she nodded sharply. “We should get started. Shall we go inside?”

As Maggie opened the door, the fickle Kitty reappeared, slipping past her and brushing her skirt against the shapely legs he’d been trying not to stare at.

“After you.” He gestured for her to precede him.

In the front hall, Emily sat pouting on the bottom step of the double-back staircase.

“I promise to behave. I won’t touch anything.” She shot a belligerent look at him. “Please may I go back up to the princess room?”

“Is that all right?” Maggie asked Jake.

He hadn’t a clue where that was, but said, “Sure, go ahead, Short Stuff.”

Without waiting for further instructions, Emily charged up the stairs. On the first landing, she came to an abrupt halt when the knob on the stair rail came off in her hands. Immediately, she and Maggie turned to him with identical expressions of fear, their faces pale, their eyes wide.

“I’m sorry.” Emily’s voice trembled. “I didn’t mean to break it.” She tried repeatedly to slot the knob back, but it wouldn’t stay put. Tears welled, tugging at his heartstrings. “I can’t fix it.”

Maggie hurried upstairs and wrapped her arms around her daughter, her pose both defensive and protective. “I’m sorry. I’ll inform the owners and pay for someone to come in and repair it straight away.”

Jake was startled by their terrified reaction to a simple accident. Images from the past few days began to slot together like pieces of a jigsaw. They formed a picture of the kind of baggage Maggie and Emily carried from their past. Anger roiled within him, but he knew he couldn’t show it.

Keeping his tone easy, he said, “No worries. This is an old house—you expect things to go wrong.”

Emily regarded him suspiciously, like she was waiting for a catch. A nasty catch. The dread in her eyes was like a punch to his gut.

“The owners probably meant to fix that knob for years. They’d have probably forgotten to let me know about it, so you’ve done me a favor, Short Stuff. Thanks.”

He went upstairs and joined them on the landing. They stiffened, but didn’t back away.

“I’ll take care of that.” He indicated the knob in her hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Jake.” Her half smile wrenched his heart.

The imp affected him almost as much as her mother.

“I can’t believe that call took so long.” Mimi walked onto the landing. “I’m sorry, but...” She broke off as she saw them standing uneasily at the top of the stairs. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine.” Jake said quickly. “Emily’s going to check out that princess room so her mom and I can do our tour of the house. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

“Uh...yes.”

Emily waited for her mother’s nod before rushing off.

Mimi looked at Maggie. “Are you sure?”

Maggie’s uncertain gaze flicked to him. He could see she wanted to believe he wasn’t mad, but something held her back.

“She’s worried because this came off the banister.” He tossed the knob from hand to hand. “I’m trying to convince her it tells me the house has been well loved and lived in.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Mimi took the knob from him. “If only all clients understood such things. We’ll add it to the list of items that’ll need fixing, if you’re interested enough in the house to put in an offer.”

“Works for me.”

“Speaking of troublesome clients—” she held up her phone “—I’m sorry, but I really need to sort this one out before he blows his sale. You’re in capable hands with Maggie.”

“For sure. We can manage without you. Right, Maggie?”

Maggie nodded.

“Great.” Mimi headed downstairs. “Any problems and I’m only a phone call away,” she added wryly.





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