Chapter 4—Slammed against the Boards

Drew pulled into his garage past one a.m. His father’s car wasn’t parked in his driveway, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t need a lecture from dear old Dad, nor did he have the patience for the man’s unrelenting criticism tonight.

He walked into the house his mother had picked out for him. Once again, hit by how much he disliked this place. He preferred a more private location than this gated community with monstrous houses practically on top of each other. Less yardwork, his mother had told him. Only Drew liked yardwork. If his mother had taken the time to listen to what he wanted, she’d have known that, but both his parents preferred to spend their time telling him what he should want. He supposed they meant well, but they were smothering him.

He sighed and shut the door from the garage into the house, walked down a tastefully decorated hall and into a family room with gleaming dark wood floors and stark white furniture. He wasn’t in any mood to sleep after the day he’d had. Too many odd feelings and too many confusing thoughts banged around in his head. He’d been better off with indifference than this feeling something was about to blow up, and he’d be collateral damage.

He stopped short when a figure rose from his couch. His breath caught in his throat. He fisted his hands, ready to do battle if necessary. When he recognized the familiar silhouette of his father several feet away, he relaxed for a moment until the stiffness of his father’s stance caused him to tense again.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Stafford’s voice was slightly slurred, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet.

Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.

“Where’s your car? I didn’t know you were here.”

“I hid it. You’ve been avoiding me. Why? What did I do?”

Drew said nothing.

“Damn it, Drew, you’re the only son I have left.” Stafford sank back down into one of Drew’s plush leather recliners and gestured impatiently for his son to take the one nearest him. Drew ignored him and chose a seat across the room. His expression would be harder to see from across the room in the dim.

“I heard an alarming rumor today. Tell me it’s not true.”

Drew stared at his tightly clasped hands in his lap. “It’s true.”

“What the fuck was Parker thinking to hire someone like her? Has he lost his ever-loving mind?”

“Possibly.” Drew shrugged. He wasn’t getting into an argument with his father tonight. He was tired and cranky. God knows, any kind of disagreement between the two of them would not end well considering his mood and his father’s drinking. Hell, they never ended well when they were both stone-cold sober and Drew was in a reasonably good mood.

“I want you to stay away from her. She’s bad news.”

Drew snorted and was rewarded with one of his father’s most intimidating glares, not that intimidation worked. Guilt was usually his father’s weapon of choice to keep Drew in line.

“I’ll have to make a visit to the Sockeyes front office and have a discussion with Gorst and Parker. They’ll listen to me, and she needs to go, especially if they want to re-sign you after this season. Then again, if you keep playing like crap, there isn’t a chance in hell they’ll be interested or any other team for that—”

“Dad, I’m tired.” Drew ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Can we talk about this another time? Or even better, not at all.”

“If you didn’t stay out so late, you wouldn’t be tired. You’re about to start a playoff run and you need to take it seriously. Your brother never stayed out late during playoffs. He was dedicated and driven. Nothing like you. Your attitude is shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Drew said wearily. He wasn’t in the mood for this. He stood and made it a few steps before his father’s next words brought him up short.

“Why are you doing this?”

Drew squinted at this father in the shadows. “Doing what?”

“Being so obstinate and ungrateful.”

“I’m always this way. I take after you.”

Stafford actually chuckled. “What are we going to do about Marina?”

Drew blew out a long breath and turned slightly. “Nothing. Not a damn thing. In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t make team personnel decisions. I’m a player, not a front office guy.”

“And you’re a struggling player at that. If your brother were still alive, he’d be as worried about you as I am. Why don’t we shoot some pucks tomorrow? I can give you some pointers like old times.”

Drew shook his head, guilt churning in his gut. “I’m going to bed. Lock the door on your way out. We’ll talk tomorrow, Dad, when we’re both feeling better.” He squared his shoulders and forced himself not to rush from the room.

“Drew, we need to fix this. Don’t dishonor your brother’s memory. He died for you.” Stafford’s last few words were almost lost in a strangled sob.

Drew froze for a heartbeat then he stiffly walked onward, up the steps, and into the master suite. He locked the door behind him. Crossing the large room, he leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the sliding wall of glass and closed his eyes.

His body shook, and he fought back the hot and painful tears.

 

* * * *

 

On Tuesday, Marina boarded the team plane for the trip to Los Angeles. Tomorrow they’d play L.A. for the first game in a best of seven series. Coach liked to fly the night before so the guys could settle in, and money was no object to Ethan.

The team owner was a native Seattleite. His great-great-etc. grandfather was a pioneer who made the family’s fortune with boats and timber. Ethan bolstered that fortune in his late twenties by having the golden touch when it came to tech investments.

Ethan’s Canadian uncle transferred his love of all things hockey to his nephew. Marina understood Ethan was a good amateur hockey player himself. He’d had a dream of one day bringing the sport he loved to Seattle. Four years ago, he’d bought a floundering Florida team and painstakingly built it into the formidable unit they were today. Ethan hired progressive, young coaches and signed players with chips on their shoulders and something to prove. Because of him, she’d been given a chance.

In the short while she’d been part of the team, she’d developed a fondness for a few of the guys and tenuous, though positive, relationships with most of them. They wanted to win, and she wanted to contribute to their success. For that reason, they put aside their personal opinions of her and her figure skating infamy. There were still a few men who glared at her as if she were the devil herself. She tried to ignore them.

Kaley was traveling with the team, and Marina settled into a seat next to her, grateful for the company. The boss liked to reward his employees, and this plane carried more than the usual team and staff.

“I’m so glad you’re on this trip.” Marina reached for a bottle of water tucked in her large purse, twisted the top off, and took a few swallows. She glanced up as Drew stalked by. His face was a mask of cold indifference. He walked stiffly up the aisle and took an empty seat, spreading his stuff across the other seat in a clear message that he didn’t want any company for this flight.

“What’s his problem?” Marina leaned close to Kaley so no one else could hear.

“I swear, that guy has been Mr. Personality all season long. If you need someone to throw cold water on a good party, he’s your man.”

Marina could see Drew clearly as he sat one row to the left of her. He’d leaned back his seat, put on sunglasses and headphones, and ignored the boisterous shouts of his teammates. The rest of the guys were in great spirits, joking, laughing, even singing. Not Drew. He was in his own little world. Even in his current surly mood, he was attractive in a dangerous, don’t-touch-me way. Marina had always been critical of women who fell for men who were projects. Now she was doing the same thing herself. She couldn’t get him out of her mind, as much as she tried. When one of Drew’s teammates glanced at her, she worried he could guess what she was thinking. When Coach asked how Drew was doing, she read more into it. She’d never been particularly paranoid, but this forbidden attraction immersed her in guilt.

Kaley was staring at her, and Marina managed a smile.

“You’ve been with the team for a long time. Has Drew always been like this?”

“No, he used to be a partier. A good-time guy. Rumor is he’s gay, though. You rarely hear of him with a woman.”

Marina nodded, though she was 99 percent certain Drew wasn’t gay, not judging by the way he looked at her. “That could explain his attitude if he’s frustrated with his situation.”

“Yeah, or it could be dealing with his dad that has him wound so tight.”

“But you said this was recent.”

“Yeah, he had a bad concussion and sprain last year. Missed a month at the end of the season. He came back a different guy,” Kaley said.

“Maybe he’s worried about head trauma. Can’t blame him for that. Those helmets don’t offer much protection when it comes down to it.” Marina had always admired hockey players’ guts. Those guys could take a hit that would’ve landed any other athlete on the bench for the rest of the game. A hockey player got up and went back at it. She understood playing through pain as a former Olympic athlete and respected their grit.

“He’s always been a little different, almost like he’s living someone else’s life, not his.”

“Maybe he is. Maybe he’s living his brother’s.” Marina’s statement brought about a surge of understanding. Her parents had died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. To honor their memory, she’d skated her heart out in her first Olympics a few weeks later. She’d spent the next four years alternating between wanting to make them proud and wanting to block out the pain by partying like a reality star.

Kaley thoughtfully studied Drew for a moment and nodded. “I never thought of it that way, but you should hear the crap his father says to him. He’s a manipulative bastard, and I can’t stand the man. Not to mention he’s propositioned me more than once when he’s come into the office. Doesn’t seem to care who hears. Almost like it’s his due.”

“I doubt he means it. His wife is stunning, and an incredible woman.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean—” Kaley glanced up as Ethan stopped to speak with her about a couple hot prospects for next year. Typical Ethan, the guy was always juggling a dozen balls and never lost control of any of them. Kaley excused herself to sit with Ethan and work on a few things.

Marina’s gaze slid to Drew once again. He was asleep or faking being asleep, oblivious to the charged atmosphere on the plane. The team was on a high and looking forward to tomorrow night’s playoff game.

Dark stubble grew on his cheeks and jaw, leaving her to wonder if he’d refuse to shave like so many hockey players did once they started the playoffs. She didn’t mind a little a scruff. In fact, it was sexy as hell. He shifted in his seat, giving her a view of his profile. His lips were drawn in a grim line. If she touched her lips to his, would they tighten or soften and welcome her mouth, even her tongue?

God, she had to stop thinking like a horny teenager.

Marina leaned her seat back and closed her eyes. She hadn’t slept last night, not knowing what to expect on this road trip, not only when it came to Drew, but the press.

She’d been sheltered by the team within the practice facility, but once she stepped off this plane, she’d be back in the spotlight. It’d been four years, maybe no one cared anymore.

If only she could be so lucky.

 

* * * *

 

The team plane landed in L.A. and they disembarked into a private terminal and onto the buses waiting outside. Within minutes they were at the hotel, and their peace and quiet was broken.

Drew eyed the small gaggle of reporters standing near the hotel entrance, flanked by the requisite puck bunnies hoping to score a night with a player. Hearing Rush and a couple rookies sizing them up, Drew rolled his eyes. Would Rush ever grow up? A year or two ago, he’d have been right in the thick of things with them. This year, he’d been unable to muster up the interest to party with his former partners in crime. He hadn’t been able to muster up the interest to do much of anything except go through the motions of living. Even sex hadn’t interested him much until Marina, which was so screwed up. She was the last woman on earth he should have a hard-on for, considering her history with his mother and Stacy.

He searched for Marina in the stream of players and staff entering the building. His gaze caught and held on a familiar figure standing off to one side. Not exactly who he’d been looking for.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Your dad beat us here?” Ice noted with a grimace as he stood near Drew waiting to get off the bus.

Drew glowered. “Maybe I can just stay on the bus.” He glanced at Ice, who regarded him with a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

Ice looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he hefted his duffle bag and shuffled down the aisle. Drew waited until the last person was off the bus. With a sigh, he grabbed his carry-on. By the time he got off, the guys were inside, and he hurried to catch up. Glancing left and right, he didn’t see his father. Relief flooded him but was short-lived.

The players and staff were gathered in a small banquet room as hotel staff handed out keycards. A few local Seattle reporters well known to the team were among the group, and so was dear old Dad. He hated the feeling of dread whenever he saw him. Things hadn’t always been like this, had they? They’d never been great, but lately they’d deteriorated until having a civil conversation had become a chore.

Drew watched with increasing horror as Stafford stalked toward the group of coaches, which included Marina and Coach Gorst.

Oh, fuck. Please, not here.

“What kind of an organization are you people running?” His father’s booming voice carried across the room. All conversation stopped, and heads turned to watch the disaster unfold like a slow-motion car wreck. Drew wanted to crawl under the nearest table.

“A top-notch one, Stafford,” Gorst shot back and not without a measure of annoyance and irritation.

“Then why the fuck did you employ her?” Stafford jabbed a finger within two inches of Marina’s face. To her credit she didn’t flinch, and her face was etched in stone—beautiful, ivory stone, but stone nonetheless.

“Marina is helping the guys with skating basics. We consider ourselves lucky to have her.” Gorst’s tone held an edge of steel, but his father wasn’t smart enough to heed it.

“More like unlucky. I thought the Sockeyes admin stood for ethics, guess I was wrong.”

Drew glanced around the room for Ethan, but Lauren and him must have already gone to their rooms. Drew edged closer to his father and Marina, fighting an insane desire to protect her. His goal was to get his father out of this room and away from Marina and Gorst. Judging by Stafford’s volume, he’d been sitting in the hotel bar for an hour or so, not wasted drunk, but feeling a buzz.

“Dad.” Drew tugged on his sleeve.

Stafford shot him a glare and jerked away. “She needs to go.” He was back to jabbing his finger in Marina’s face again.

Her icy exterior melted slightly, revealing a flash of temper. She swatted at his hand. “I’ll only ask you once to cease with the threatening gestures, then I’m calling hotel security.” She meant it, and everyone in the room knew she meant it. Gorst’s brows shot up in surprise. A couple of the guys gasped. Others chuckled. Drew hid his own smile.

Stafford’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Marina with malice and disgust. “I don’t want my son working with her.”

“First of all, your son is well over eighteen, and you no longer get a vote on his life. Secondly, the last time I looked, I was the coach of this team, not you. If you continue to insult my staff, you won’t be allowed in another arena with my team for the remainder of the season.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the large room. No one talked to the reigning king of hockey like that and lived to see another day. Obviously, Gorst hadn’t gotten that memo, and his stock rose in Drew’s estimation.

Stafford’s eyes flashed fire. He fisted his hands at his sides, and Gorst braced for impact. Only Stafford didn’t swing. Instead, he growled an unintelligible threat and stalked away. He paused as he neared Drew.

“This isn’t over,” he said. Head held high and back stiff, he left the room.

It really wasn’t over, and Drew knew it. There’d be hell to pay, and he’d spent the past few years avoiding that hell to lessen the drama in his life.

Gorst blew out a breath and swept his gaze across the room as several reporters hustled out of the room after Stafford. The coach’s eyes briefly met Drew’s. Instead of censure, he saw sympathy and understanding. Drew held his head higher and stared right back. He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. He could handle his father.

“All right. Coop, here’s your key.” Gorst grabbed the first envelope off the pile and returned to business as normal, as if nothing had taken place here. The team was used to Stafford’s tirades. He frequently attempted to coach the team from the stands and constantly doled out advice to the coaches. For the most part, they ignored him or placated him. Not this time.

Marina stood off to one side with her friend Kaley, no longer looking so brave, but stricken.

Bracing himself, Drew walked up to her and nodded at Kaley before focusing his attention on Marina. “I’m sorry about that. I think he’s had one too many in the hotel bar.”

She managed a shaky smile. “No need for you to apologize. You’re not responsible for his actions. He’s a grown man.”

“Still, I’m sorry. His opinions don’t reflect the opinions of the rest of us.”

“Thanks.” She cocked a brow, as if she didn’t believe him. He’d said the words and hadn’t necessarily meant them. She most likely knew insincerity when she heard it. Turning, she engaged one of the coaches in conversation, effectively dismissing him.

Having done enough damage, Drew wandered off to wait for his name to be called. He couldn’t help sneaking glances at Marina. She was so damned beautiful, like an untouchable fairy princess locked in a tower. Only instead of waiting for her prince to arrive, she was already plotting her escape. She didn’t need him or any other guy. The thought rankled him.

“I had a dad like that,” Ice said from beside him.

Drew almost jumped. His teammate had a knack for sneaking up on a guy.

“What’d you do? Kill him?” Drew responded in a feeble attempt at humor.

Ice’s intense blue eyes regarded him. “No, I did one better. I helped put him in prison.” Without another word, he pivoted on his heel and walked away.

Speechless, Drew gaped after him.

He wasn’t the only one on the team with a dysfunctional father. The realization made him feel a little better.

 

* * * *

 

Marina couldn’t sleep. No surprise there. She tossed, she turned, she even succumbed to a fantasy involving her hand and an imaginary guy, whose shadowy face and hot body slowly morphed into a familiar face with an equally hot body.

Drew once again invaded her private time.

There wasn’t any way she was sleeping after what she’d done to herself with a little help from him.

Giving up, she made her way to the hotel bar, hoping a nightcap would do the trick. She paused at the doorway, relieved to see the room almost empty.

After the altercation with Stafford and how it’d been plastered all over social media in a matter of minutes, she didn’t dare be caught in a bar. In fact, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, but going back to her room and her forbidden fantasies wasn’t, either.

She refused to be a hermit. She was going to live her life the way she saw fit. If she wanted to have a drink, she could have a drink.

Despite her brave declarations, she found a seat in a dark corner and slid into the high-backed booth. She’d be safe here. No one would notice her, especially devoid of makeup and with her hair loose around her face like a protective armor.

She ordered a Manhattan. Her mother had had sleeping problems and often drank one before bed. Seeing the drink on the table was somewhat soothing.

The team didn’t blame her for Stafford’s outburst, and Ethan was beyond understanding when he found out. Lauren was supportive and protective, like a mother bear. Yet the team was on a playoff run. They didn’t need distractions. What little she knew of Stafford Delacorte, he loved the limelight and ate it up like her old Cocker Spaniel had wolfed down table scraps. He wouldn’t be easily controlled, and he could turn the tide of public opinion in his favor because it sure as hell wasn’t leaning toward her.

She should quit. Walk away while she still had her pride and dignity intact, especially after what Ethan and Lauren had presented to her this afternoon. It was a crazy plan, and Drew would never bite. Even if he did, the last thing either of them needed was more time together, most likely alone.

She sipped her drink and munched on a pretzel from the bowl on the table, realizing she hadn’t eaten all day. The coach had excused her from afternoon practice for the meeting, but she’d vowed to be present at the morning skate. She would not let Stafford dictate what she did and with whom, which was the one of the reasons for Ethan and Lauren’s earlier request.

“You’re up late.”

Startled, she glanced up into the hooded gaze of Drew Delacorte. Speak—or think—of the devil.

“Care if I join you?” He didn’t look like he wanted to join her but was being polite. He couldn’t very well walk past her and sit somewhere else.

She opened her mouth to say she’d prefer to be alone, but he sat across from her before she could get the words out. He ordered a beer and pulled the bar menu from behind the napkin holder, perusing it, and added buffalo wings to his order.

“I’m really not good company,” she began.

“That makes two of us. In fact, my teammates would tell you that I haven’t been good company in months. I have a bit of an attitude problem.”

She met his gaze. His was expressionless. He could’ve loved her to pieces or hated her guts. She voted for the latter.

He pointed at her drink. “Drinking alone?”

“It’s better this way. I get in too much trouble when I drink with others.”

He cocked his brow and chuckled. “There is that.” He held up his glass.

She reluctantly clinked glasses with him. “Aren’t you afraid your father might come in here and see us together?”

“Nah, he’s passed out for the night. Chewing my ass for two hours can be exhausting, along with consuming large amounts of top-shelf whiskey. Besides, this is my life, not his.” He blew out a breath and wrapped fingers around the beer glass. “I am sorry about his behavior.”

“He hates me. That’s understandable. Your mother hates me. Also, understandable. I came to terms with the consequences of my actions long ago. It is what it is. I’ve just returned to the States after four years away so I’m a hot news item again. It’ll die down when the next scandal comes along.”

“I don’t think my mom hates you.”

“I’m certain she does. And you? Do you hate me?”

He pondered her question, sucking his lower lip between his teeth and staring over her head. “I don’t think so. Not anymore. I’m not sure I trust you, though. You’re off limits for too many reasons and way more trouble than I want to tangle with.”

God help her, she wanted to tangle with him, despite the truth in his words. He didn’t trust her. And why should he? By his way of thinking, she was the villain who betrayed his mom and messed up his girlfriend’s career.

“That’s fair.” She looked away, unable to face those penetrating hazel eyes for fear he’d see too much and her secret crush would be revealed. The heat of his gaze burned through her, as if he were willing her to look at him again. She didn’t.

“Why did you choose to be a skating coach for an NHL team? You had to know that’d put attention on you.”

“Because I love what I’m doing. I’d like to teach figure staking, but fat chance that’ll happen anytime soon.” She made the mistake of looking up, and their eyes met and held. Cliché as it might seem, the world disappeared around them and nothing else existed for the briefest of moments. The silence stretched into infinity.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “You’re a natural, by the way.”

“My dad would love hearing that. He’s old school. To him, hockey is all about hard hits, brute strength, and macho posturing.”

“And to you?”

“I don’t know what hockey is to me.” He stared at his hands and chewed on his lower lip again. She watched, unable to drag her gaze away from his mouth. He was sexy and strong, yet vulnerable, a hard combination for most women to resist. She was no exception. He had the strong, silent thing going in spades.

The waiter delivered Drew’s wings, and he dug in, offering to share. She didn’t hesitate but gratefully raised one to her mouth, not slowing down until she’d gotten all the meat. She ate a few more, keeping pace with him until all that was left was a pile of bones.

“How can someone as small as you eat so much?”

“Like you, I burn it off.”

He nodded slowly. “I see.”

“About figure skating. I’m glad you showed up tonight. I have something to ask of you.”

He stiffened. “OK.”

“Lauren approached me with a plan.”

He frowned. “Go on.”

“The team does a season ticket holders party at the end of the season—whenever that is—and she thought it’d be spectacular if I did a pairs routine with one of the players.” She rushed to get the words out before he interrupted.

Now he was scowling. “No fucking way am I that player.”

Marina glared right back at him. “Lauren’s suggestion, not mine. I’d rather work with Jason or Jasper. What they lack in skill, they’d make up for in enthusiasm.”

“I’m not doing it. I’m not about to get mixed up in this mess.”

“What mess?”

“The drama that surrounds you wherever you go. I’m not interested. Find someone else.” He glared at her, wiped his hands on a napkin, and started to slide out of the booth.

“Is that how you go through life? Avoiding all the tough stuff? Taking the easy way out?”

He froze and turned back to face her. His eyes narrowed to slits and his lips drew into in a thin, straight line. She’d hit a nerve, a big one. “You should try it sometime. You might find going with the flow works better than disrupting it.”

“Even when you’re not being true to yourself?” She leaned across the table to show him how unimpressed she was by his attempt to intimidate her. He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. His chin jutted out stubbornly like a belligerent toddler’s.

“What I am and am not doing is none of your business.”

“Oh, you’re wrong. I’m your coach. Anything that affects the morale of this team is my business. You enjoyed practice the other day. Lauren and Ethan noticed. They want you to work with me on a routine. Nothing fancy, just a few lifts.”

He shook his head. “No can do.”

“You’re worried about your parents and what they’ll think? Get a pair of balls and stand up to them.” She’d gone too far; she could tell by how red his face got.

“You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. What gives you the right to talk to me like that? I’m not the one who blew a gold meal on a drunken binge played out online in numerous videos.”

Now she was pissed. “I was young, arrogant, and untouchable.”

“When was that? All of four years ago? Have you really changed any?”

“Yes, I have. People grow up. And let’s talk about you endangering your team’s chances of winning the Cup with your lackadaisical attitude and refusal to stand up to your father.”

“I stand up to him all the time.”

“It’s not working then.”

“It’s complicated.” Drew shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re something. You know that?” He stood, threw some bills on the table, and stalked out.

Marina watched him go and wondered why she’d burned that bridge. Drew was the last person she needed to make an enemy of. He was one of the guys the team wanted her to work with the most. How was she going to establish a positive working relationship with the infuriating man when all they wanted to do was snipe at each other?

Lauren and Ethan were pushing this skating exhibition and weren’t going to back down easily. She wasn’t sure why they insisted on Drew, though he was the most talented skater on the team. Part of her wondered if they were pushing the exhibition to show his father they’d do as they damn well pleased with their team.

And she was caught in the middle of their power struggle and her insane attraction to the wrong man.