He’s the perfect catch…for now!

When it comes to romance, Tracy Hayden is not looking for a rematch. She’s had epic passion—and problems!—with professional hockey player Ike Jelinek. Brilliant on skates and magic in bed, his too-traditional-for-her views were like a bucket of ice water on their affair.

Then an injury takes Ike out of the game, and everything changes. Suddenly he needs her services-providing business—even though he once claimed it was their biggest problem. Tracy’s determined to be professional, despite the sizzling attraction between them that won’t go away. Maybe they need a second fling to fix that!

“What are you doing here?”

Ike crossed his arms awkwardly over his broad chest. The bandages that covered his arm from fingers to shoulder hampered his movement. “I’m suffering enough without you adding to my misery.”

Ignoring the little sting his words gave her, Tracy smiled sweetly at him. “Ever the charmer, Ike. I thought I’d give the nurses a break from your delightful personality.” She flicked her finger at his hospital gown. “By the way, the pastel-blue flowers suit you.”

The gown should have looked silly on such an obviously masculine body. Instead, it actually emphasized his honed chest and arms, making him look more manly, rather than less.

Still, he didn’t need to know that. Nor that he’d made her pulse skip.

Dear Reader,

It’s time to drop the puck on another story about the dedicated and delicious hockey players of the New Jersey Ice Cats! Welcome back to readers who’ve enjoyed the series so far, and thank you for your many lovely comments. If this is your first Ice Cats book, hello, and thanks for stopping by.

They say if two people are meant to be together, they’ll end up together. But what if for some reason the timing isn’t right? Although there are tragic stories of missed chances, you also hear many heartwarming stories about people finally getting together after many years. I like to believe that love will always find a way, although sometimes fate has to give a helping hand.

The moment Ike and Tracy appeared in A Perfect Distraction, I knew that for them the timing the first time around was definitely not right. It was also clear fate would have to use both hands to get this stubborn couple back together!

I love to hear from readers. Please write to me at anna@annasugden.com or Box 174, Regis House, 23 King Street, Cambridge CB1 1AH, England. You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter.

Anna Sugden

A Perfect Catch

Anna Sugden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Former marketing executive ANNA SUGDEN loves reading romance novels and watching films with happy endings. She also loves watching hockey and football, where she prefers a happy ending for her teams. When she’s not researching hockey players (for her books, of course), she makes craft projects and collects penguins, autographs and memorabilia, and great shoes. Anna lives in Cambridge, England, with her husband and two bossy black cats. Learn more about Anna, her books and her shoes at annasugden.com.

For Keith, all my love always

For Favourite Nephew, Matthew,

and Favourite Niece, Hannah—love you xx

Acknowledgments

My wonderful agent, Jill Marsal,

for all her support, advice and help.

Donna MacMeans and Cassondra Murray—

plotting has never been so much fun!

Beth Andrews, Terri Garey, Kathleen Long,

Janice Lynn and Tawny Weber—who are always

there for me.

The Romance Bandits—who make this

roller-coaster ride a blast!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“WHY DOES IT take so long to have a baby?”

At her niece’s question, Tracy Hayden looked up from the stack of invoices she was logging into her business’s accounting system.

She smiled at Emily, who was playing a game on the other home-office computer. “They don’t have bar codes on their bums, so you can’t just pick them up at a grocery store.”

Tracy’s sister, Maggie, had gone to the hospital early that morning, when her water had broken. The latest update from Maggie’s anxious husband, Jake, at 5:00 p.m., had been that all was progressing well, if a bit slowly.

Now, at seven-thirty, ten-year-old Emily’s excitement was stretched thin by the lack of action.

“Very funny, Auntie Tracy.” The soon-to-be older sister rolled her eyes. “Do you think Mummy’s having a girl or a boy?”

“Hmm.” Tracy pretended to consider the question seriously. “I have a feeling the sproglet is a boy.”

Her niece leaned forward eagerly. “Why?”

Tracy lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Your mum put sugar in her cup of tea yesterday. They say you need extra sweetness if you’re having a boy.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “She also ate a whole bar of Cadbury’s chocolate from her stash.”

“Aha.” Tracy snapped her fingers. “That settles it.”

“A baby brother would be okay,” Emily mused. “He wouldn’t want any of my things. Plus he’ll like sports. I could teach him to skate and play hockey.”

Tracy clipped the invoices together, then slipped them into a folder marked November Bills. She’d allocate them to the appropriate accounts tomorrow. “That would be nice.”

“Maybe he’ll even get to play on the Ice Cats like Daddy Jake.”

Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti was a star defenseman for the local professional hockey team, the New Jersey Ice Cats. He and Maggie had gotten together after his transfer from Chicago a few years ago, when Maggie had helped him find a place to live. Though she’d been wary of falling for another pro athlete after escaping an abusive marriage to Emily’s father—an English Premier League soccer player—Jake had eventually won the hearts of both mother and daughter. As well as being an avid fan of her stepfather’s team, Emily had also become a good mites’ hockey player.

The child pouted. “It’s not fair that girls can’t play for the Ice Cats.”

“You never know. Maybe you’ll be the second woman to play in the NHL.”

“But Manon Rhéaume was a goaltender.” Em wrinkled her nose. “I want to be a forward and score lots of goals.”

Naturally. Her niece was all about action.

The phone rang, startling them both.

Tracy’s heart leaped into her throat as she saw Jake’s number. She snatched up the receiver. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He sounded a little befuddled. “We have a boy. Eight pounds, six ounces. Mom and son both doing well. Dad’s not sure he ever wants to go through that again.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be Maggie’s line?” Tracy said drily.

“She had an epidural. I did the whole thing without anesthetic.”

She laughed. “A tough guy like you can’t handle childbirth. I’m shocked.”

“I can’t believe, having survived it once with Emily, she’d be willing to do it again.” He paused and Tracy could almost feel his shudder down the phone. “Maggie’s one tough cookie.”

“She certainly is.”

Despite what she’d been through, Maggie had not only managed to make a fresh start in the US, but she’d also embraced marriage again.

Something Tracy couldn’t do after her own disastrous experience.

That mess wasn’t something she wanted to think about. Not when there was a new life to celebrate. “So, are you up for visitors?”

“Sure. Whenever you can get here. I’ll call my parents next and get them to pass the news to everyone else.”

After she’d hung up, Tracy turned to Emily. “A boy,” she said smugly.

“You rock, Auntie Tracy.” Emily reached across the back-to-back desks to fist-bump her. “When can we go to see him?”

“Right now.” Tracy saved her files, then switched off her computer and stood. “Get your coat and we’ll head over.”

Em dashed out of the office. A moment later, she stuck her head back around the door. “Don’t forget the teddy bear.”

“I won’t. He’s already in the gift bag by the front door.”

The drive to the hospital passed quickly, with Emily chattering like a magpie about her new sibling. As they walked across the parking lot toward the hospital entrance, Emily squealed and darted toward a tall dark-haired man getting out of a black Mercedes SUV.

“Uncle Ike!”

Tracy’s pulse hitched at the familiar figure of Ice Cats goaltender Eisenhower “Ike” Jelinek. She wasn’t surprised to see him. The four Jelinek boys had grown up with Jake, and the men were like brothers. Still, she’d hoped she’d get lucky and miss him.

Back when Tracy had been starting Making Your Move, her relocation business, she’d helped Ike find the perfect town house and they’d had a hot and heavy fling shortly after. Even though they’d been great together in bed—and a whole bunch of other places—the fire had burned out quickly when they’d realized they’d wanted different things from a relationship.

The flip side of all that passion meant they rubbed each other the wrong way ever since. Unfortunately they couldn’t avoid each other. Even ignoring the family connection, Making Your Move managed all the Ice Cats’ relocation, travel and accommodation projects, so Tracy spent a lot of time with the team.

What surprised her was that every time she saw Ike, her body reacted to his broad shoulders, his powerful legs and his crooked grin as if they were still lovers.

No way. She knew better than to go down that road again.

“Hey, princess.” Ike caught Emily as she threw herself at him, lifting and twirling her around, much to the girl’s delight.

Laughing, they headed toward Tracy.

Ike’s smile faded when he spoke to her. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she replied politely.

Emily skipped between the two adults as they walked toward the hospital entrance. “Auntie Tracy, did you see that Uncle Ike bought exactly the same bear as you?”

Sure enough, the stuffed toy Ike clutched awkwardly by the arm was identical to the one in her gift bag, right down to the yellow ribbon tied jauntily around its neck.

“You can’t have too many teddy bears.” She kept her voice light, even though she wanted to snap childishly at him to take his back.

Ike arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d get something as old-fashioned as a bear.”

The emphasis was intended to goad her. One of the reasons she and Ike hadn’t made it was she’d thought his attitude toward women and life were stuffy and old-fashioned. “Teddy bears are traditional. There’s a difference.”

The look in Ike’s green eyes said he begged to differ. “Uh-huh.”

“Auntie Tracy got me the same bear when I was born. Except mine has a pink ribbon.”

“A family tradition.” Tracy smiled sweetly.

“My tradition for new Ice Cat babies is to get them one of those all-in-one things with feet, with the team logo on it.”

“Shouldn’t they be called Ice Kittens, Uncle Ike?”

“I guess they should. But you wouldn’t want to confuse them with the girls who clean the ice for us.”

“Why? They’re only cheerleaders on skates.” Emily’s lip curled.

“Just because we don’t like their job doesn’t mean we should disrespect the ice girls, Em,” Tracy chided gently.

Ike shot a look of surprise at her. “I thought you’d disapprove of them. Women being used as—” he paused, glancing at Emily, who was following the discussion intently “—entertainment for the predominantly male audience.”

“I wouldn’t want to be one and, if I owned the team, I wouldn’t have them at all, but the job exists. As long as they’re not being exploited, good luck to them. Besides, I’ve seen how hard the Ice Kittens work. They have a lot of promotional and charity duties, on top of what they do at games.”

“Be careful—they’ll be taking away your feminist badge.”

Tracy shrugged. Ike had always thought she was a bra-burning radical, rather than a woman who didn’t like to be pigeon-holed, dictated to or discriminated against because of her sex. “I believe in equality and that if you can do the job, you can do the job.”

“That means if I can play well enough, I can be an Ice Cat, not an Ice Kitten.” Emily nodded, with a satisfied grin.

Tracy bit back a smile as Ike clamped his jaw shut. Clearly, he didn’t agree with women playing in the NHL. Luckily, they arrived at the hospital entrance, so Emily’s attention turned to which floor her mother would be on.

A blast of warm air hit them as the automatic doors swished open, and the three of them hurried inside out of the chilly November evening. The lift was crowded with the start of evening visiting hours, but by the time they got to Maternity there were only a few people with new-baby gifts.

Jake met them in the waiting room, looking tired but exhilarated. They exchanged hugs and congratulations before he led them down to Maggie’s room. Emily rushed ahead, chattering a mile a minute.

Ike caught the door and held it open for Tracy. She nodded her thanks as she walked past him into the room.

While Tracy appreciated his gentlemanly gestures, manners didn’t make up for the control issues that went with them. In the first flush of their romance, she’d believed Ike was different. But after only a few weeks, he’d shown her how naive she’d really been. No matter how much she might have wished otherwise, Ike had turned out to be as bad as her father and her ex-husband.

Besides, the only male she was interested in loving and having in her life permanently was the one in the pastel blue cap that her sister cradled in her arms.

“He’s a bit funny-looking.” Emily wrinkled her nose, disappointment in her voice.

“Poor lamb’s had a rough few hours.” Maggie stroked the shock of dark hair on her son’s head. “You didn’t look much better when you were born. In fact, he looks very much like you did.”

“Mu-um,” Emily huffed, rolling her eyes.

“She’s right, Em.” Tracy grinned. “You turned out fine, so he’ll be okay, too.”

“Kid clearly takes after his mom, not his dad,” Ike said.

Jake laughed. “Fine by me.”

“Do you want to hold him, sis?” Maggie asked her.

“Of course.” Tracy sat on the edge of the bed while her sister passed the precious bundle over. “Come to your auntie.”

Her throat tightened with love as his warmth filled her arms. “He’s gorgeous. Have you named him yet?”

Maggie smiled mistily at Jake. “Joe. Not Joseph—just Joe.”

“A good, solid name.” Ike leaned over and gently ran his finger over Joe’s soft cheek.

Tracy stiffened. It felt weird to be holding a baby with Ike so close beside her. His unique, spicy scent mingled pleasantly with the smell of the infant, making her feel even more unsettled.

Ike brushed Joe’s little fist with his finger. Almost immediately, her nephew curled his tiny fingers around Ike’s. Somehow, it felt as if the three of them were now connected. A strange prickling feeling danced across Tracy’s shoulders. She wanted to order Ike to move away, but knew that would sound crazy. Instead, she gritted her teeth and focused on her nephew.

Joe must have sensed her discomfort because his eyes popped open. Her heart squeezed at his solemn expression as he studied her. He then shifted his unfocused newborn gaze to Ike, giving him the same unblinking stare.

She hated to give the baby up, but she had to break the connection. Get away from the cozy tableau that had formed.

“Would you like a turn, Ike?” she asked politely.

“Sure.” He sat beside her on the bed and reached for the baby.

Ignoring the heat of Ike’s thigh pressed against hers, Tracy kissed her nephew’s forehead and passed him over.

She was surprised by how confidently Ike handled the small bundle.

“Goaltenders have the safest pair of hands,” he said smugly, as if he’d read her mind.

“Of course.” Her smile felt forced as she jumped up and went to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the bed.

“Ike used to help my mom look after Linc while Aunt Karina was at work,” Jake added. “He was a whiz at changing diapers, making bottles of formula and burping the kid.”

Tracy knew one of the reasons Ike was so serious was that he’d had to learn responsibility at an early age, after his father had walked out. Even though Jake’s parents had helped Karina Jelinek a lot—Jake and the four Jelinek boys had been raised together—it had been a struggle as Ike’s mum had worked several jobs to keep her sons fed and clothed. Ike and the next oldest, Tru, had done their part to help look after their younger brothers, Kenny and Linc.

It was touching to see the brawny goaltender holding her tiny nephew so tenderly, his green eyes looking fondly at the gurgling baby. Someday, he’d probably hold his own children with the same confidence. Look at them with the same affection.

She ignored the tug in her chest.

Tracy didn’t want to be the woman who gave him those children. She was happy with her life and her business; she answered to no one but herself. She enjoyed the freedom of doing what she wanted, when she wanted. Sure, she dated. Some guys had even lasted a few months. But every time things had started to turn serious, she’d felt hemmed in and backed away.

As for children... Well, she was a fantastic aunt and that was enough for her.

Really, it was.

Tracy turned to Maggie and asked brightly, “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, considering.” Her sister lowered her voice. “I don’t want to upset the men by telling you about my stitches, so I’ll give you the gory details later.”

Tracy bit back a laugh as the two hockey players winced. “At least we’re in the right place if they pass out.”

“I’ll go and check if anyone else is in the waiting room,” Jake said quickly.

“I’ll come with you.” Emily hurried after him, already bored with her new brother. “I wonder if Nonna and Poppa brought me a big-sister present.”

Maggie shook her head indulgently. “Jake’s poor parents have been bombarded with helpful suggestions for gifts.”

“Em’s thrown a few ideas my way,” Tracy said.

“Mine, too.” Ike nodded.

“The little monkey. We had a talk about that and I told her not to try it on.”

Tracy patted her sister’s arm. “Emily’s excited about Joe’s arrival, which is nice, given she’s been an only child for so long.”

“I know. She’s a good kid, just a little cheeky.”

“I don’t blame her. It’s not like our parents ever spoiled her.” When their father was alive, Em had been lucky to get a birthday card, let alone a present. Dominic Hayden had believed gifts were frivolous. Since his death, their mother had continued to abide by his rules. God forbid she should have a thought of her own.

“True.” Maggie grimaced. “I suppose I should let Mum know about Joe.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call her later.” Tracy deliberately changed the subject. “Have the doctors said when you can go home?”

“Tomorrow, assuming everything’s okay.” Her sister sighed. “I’m sorry. This has messed up our plans at work for the next few weeks. I can’t believe I went into labor so early. Everyone kept telling me I was bound to be late because it had been so long since I’d had Em.”

“Babies come when they want to,” Tracy reassured her. “I’d factored in the possibility. Which is why the intern we recruited is starting ahead of schedule—on Monday. Carla’s grateful for the extra money and I’m happy to pass over the admin duties, so it’s all good.”

“Even more reason for you not to pay me while I’m off work.”

“Don’t start that again. You know how well the business is doing and there’s more than enough in the budget to cover your maternity pay, so relax. Besides, didn’t I read somewhere that worrying turns a mother’s milk sour?”

“That’s an old wives’ tale.”

Tracy shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to risk it.”

“Okay.” Maggie laughed. “Can I at least ask if you heard back from those two new business pitches we made this week?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure they’ll let me know before the weekend,” Tracy lied smoothly, not wanting her sister to start fretting again about her workload.

Both contracts were in the bag, which would be a nice boost to their bottom line and another step closer to Tracy’s goal of getting their business to number one. Even with Carla’s help, she’d be working flat out until Maggie returned. But the extra hours would be worth the financial cushion it would give them for next year.

“How will you cope if we win them both?” her sister asked.

“I thought we just agreed that everything was under control,” Tracy scolded.

“Yes, but...”

Thankfully, Maggie’s protest was interrupted when Jake’s parents bustled into the room, followed by Ike’s mum and stepfather.

As the older folks exclaimed excitedly over Joe, Tracy was touched by the joy and love in the room. So different from when Emily was born, when Tracy had been the only family member to visit. Their father had hated London and refused to travel south. Even though it had broken their mother’s heart not to see her first grandchild, as usual she hadn’t fought her husband’s decision. Horrified, Tracy had sworn then that she’d never let a man control her life. Sadly, only a short while later, she’d fallen into the same trap.

Tracy’s phone vibrated against her hip, breaking into her dark thoughts. Grateful for the interruption, she stepped away from the bed to check the caller ID.

Bloody hell. She’d missed a call from Glen at the Brooklyn Bridgers, one of the local Major League Soccer teams. She and Glen had played phone tag all day. The Bridgers were interested in the Helping Hand services her business had recently begun to offer. They had a new French star, Marcel Chabal, whom she’d been helping to relocate from France. Marcel’s wife didn’t speak much English and needed support for the transition to living in a new country.

As she listened to Glen’s voice mail, she saw Ike frown at her. His obvious disapproval made her bristle. How dare he judge her? Her business was successful because she was available to meet her clients’ needs 24/7. Unscheduled calls like this one were rare, but right now, time wasn’t on her side. She needed project and budget approval so she could have everything in place for when the couple arrived this weekend.

“I’ll be available until eleven tonight.” Glen signed off. “Call me.”

If she phoned right now, she might catch him. Since no one other than Ike—and he didn’t count—was paying her any attention, Tracy slipped out of the room.

Luckily, the waiting room was empty, so Tracy could call Glen in privacy. This time, they connected and he approved both the proposal and the budget. “Send over the revised paperwork and I’ll sign it.”

Tracy kept her voice calm and professional, though she wanted to fist-pump the air. “Great. I’ll get that to you first thing tomorrow.”

Once she’d hung up, Tracy decided to celebrate with a coffee. As she waited for the machine to do its thing, she gave a happy wiggle. Major score! And a very nice boost to her turnover. Hopefully, once the Bridgers saw how Helping Hands enabled Mme. Chabal to settle more easily and eased Marcel’s stress, they’d extend the contract to cover all their foreign players. Their positive reference would be invaluable for pitching the service to her other clients.

Collecting her coffee, Tracy glanced at the clock. Visiting hours would be over shortly and she wanted another cuddle with her new nephew. It had been a good evening all around.

“Excuse me.”

Ike’s deep voice, close to her ear, startled her.

She jerked her head around as he leaned forward to program the machine. Their gazes clashed.

He was too close. Tracy could feel the heat radiating from his body. Prickles of awareness danced across her skin. Her pulse skipped as emerald fire flared briefly in his eyes.

Then he blinked and the flames disappeared. “Finished your business?” Ike reached past her for his coffee.

Tracy jerked away from him. Hot coffee splashed over her hand.

She swore and sucked on the sore patch before answering. “Yes, thank you. A client needed me,” she added, before she could stop herself. Damn it. She didn’t owe him any explanations.

“What kind of relocation emergency can there be?”

Her earlier irritation returned at his sarcastic tone, but she fought to stay polite. “You, of all people, should know that problems don’t just happen between nine and five. As I recall, you liked me to be available whenever you needed me.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I had to work viewings around the Ice Cats schedule.”

“Then you should understand when other professional athletes need flexibility, too.”

“Sure, but there are times when business should take a backseat. Like when your sister’s just had a baby.”

He was acting as though she’d abandoned Maggie and Joe. She’d stepped out briefly, leaving a room full of people to fuss over them. “Really? So you’ve never had to leave a family event to get to a game or missed a family occasion because you’ve been on a road trip?”

“That’s different. I don’t get a choice about where I have to be or when. I thought the whole point of running your own business was that you were in control. I remember how vital being your own boss—in every part of your life—is to you.”

His bitter tone brought up memories she’d rather had remained buried. Arguments better forgotten. “You’re the one who wouldn’t compromise.”

“You didn’t want compromise—you wanted things all your own way.”

“I didn’t want them all your way. Big difference.”

“What was so wrong with expecting you to take me, our relationship, as seriously as your career?”

Once again, he was twisting the facts to make everything her fault. Irritation turned to anger. “That wasn’t what you expected at all. You wanted my career to take a backseat to yours.”

“I never said that.” He drained his coffee and threw the cup in the bin.

“Maybe not exactly, but you made it clear that you thought my business was only something to keep me occupied until I had a husband to look after me. Meanwhile, you chasing around after a puck was—” she used air quotes “—‘so much more important,’ even though you only had, at best, another ten years.”

He clenched his fists by his sides. “I’d make enough money in those ten years to keep you living comfortably for the rest of your life.”

“I didn’t need you to take care of me and I didn’t need your money.” Tracy worked so hard because she never wanted to be dependent on another man or his money again. “I can bloody well look after myself.”

“Yeah, you’ve made it pretty freaking clear there’s no room in your life for a man.”

“Not quite true—there’s no room in my life for you.”

“Trust me, babe, I’m glad,” he drawled. “I had a lucky escape. I get banged up enough on the ice—I don’t need a ballbuster in my bed.”

Tracy gasped at his cruel words. Then she tossed her coffee over him. She’d show him a ballbuster.

* * *

IKE SWORE AS he wiped down his sweater and jeans with his handkerchief. From the heat around his zipper, the coffee had got too close to the family jewels for comfort.

Tracy Hayden had been a major pain in his ass from the moment she’d strutted into his life on those killer legs. With a toss of her dark hair and a glint in her brown eyes, she’d challenged him in every way. Still did. Damn woman was as irritating as grit in an oyster, except he never got a pearl. That said, a coffee shower was a first.

“I should apologize.” Tracy’s crisp tone, which emphasized her still-strong English accent, was grudging.

“Why bother, if you don’t mean it?” He stripped off his sweater. Beneath it, his T-shirt was damp but wearable. “I thought the one thing we had left was honesty.”

Her gaze lingered on his chest before flicking up to meet his. Color tinged her cheeks. “You’re right. Your remark was uncalled for, but I reacted badly.”

His conscience pricked him, taking the edge off his anger. It was partly—okay, largely—his fault. One minute Tracy had been cooing over her nephew and the next she was desperately checking her phone. Since she’d just told Maggie that everything was under control, what could be so freaking important?

Ike hadn’t deliberately followed Tracy into the waiting room. The cozy family image Jake, Maggie and Joe had presented had scraped on his already raw nerves, reminding him of the life he’d once hoped he could have with Tracy and making the hospital room feel claustrophobic. He’d escaped to get some air. He’d been surprised to find Tracy by the coffee machine and had nearly turned back. But then he’d seen that damn wiggle. That sexy hip-shimmy she always did when she was happy. The one that always fired up his pulse—and his groin.

He’d barely got himself under control when she’d spilled coffee on her hand. He’d wanted to kiss the burn better. The thought of putting his lips on her had sent desire rocketing through his body once more. Frustration had fuelled his annoyance. After all this time, he hated that he was still so pathetically affected by her, while all she felt for him was aggravation. And he’d snapped.

“No harm done,” he said stiffly. “I should apologize, too.”

“Okay.” Tracy dropped her empty cup in the trash and turned back to the coffee machine.

As she tapped in her selection, Ike stifled the urge to offer to buy her a drink. He turned to go when her voice stopped him.

“I know you won’t believe this, but I wouldn’t ordinarily let business intrude on such a special occasion.”

“So why the exception?” He was pleased his question held no hint of his skepticism.

“It was a time-sensitive issue.”

“Aren’t they all?”

“I suppose so.” Tracy smiled ruefully as she collected her drink. “But in this case, it would have been a costly mistake. The Bridgers are a major client.”

He frowned, unsure how one phone call could be that important. Unless she’d been about to lose the soccer team as a client. “Is Making Your Move in trouble?”

“Not at all. In fact I’m trying to broaden the range of services we offer with the new Helping Hands package.” Tracy explained the extra support her company wanted to give players and their families.

Ike obviously had a different definition of emergency. If her company had been struggling, he’d have understood. But how could adding business when her company was already successful be more important than celebrating a new member of the family?

Don’t go there.

What was the point? It would only lead to another fight and he probably wouldn’t survive another dousing unscathed. Besides, all of this only reinforced what he already knew—the two of them would never work. He couldn’t be with someone who put work ahead of everything and everyone else. He sure as hell wouldn’t compete with a woman’s career.

Ike acknowledged that his own childhood colored his thinking. Not just the weight of responsibility that he’d carried from too young an age, but also the way his mother had worked herself to exhaustion to provide for the family after his father had walked out. Ike was determined that his future wife and children would not struggle or suffer. Which was why he firmly believed the traditional male-female roles were necessary. Men provided and supported so that women could take care of the family.

Tracy would never be that type of woman.

Now if only his body would get the message.

“So you can see why I couldn’t risk messing up and not getting the Bridgers on board.” Tracy wound up her explanation and looked at him expectantly.

He was damned if he understood. Luckily, Ike was saved from having to come up with a suitable reply when his younger brother, Kenny, ambled toward them. “So, this is where the sane people hang out. The kid’s cute and all, but do we really have to sigh over every gurgle and dribble?”

“I’m afraid so.” She patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Give it a few weeks and you’ll be doing the same. I’ve seen harder men than you going gaga over a cute baby.”

“No way.” Kenny gave an exaggerated shudder.

Tracy laughed. “Well, I’m not afraid to say I want another cuddle.”

“Good luck prying him away from the grandmas.” Kenny rolled his eyes. “I’ll grab a drink and wait until the bloodshed is over.”

“Coward.” She waggled her fingers in farewell.

Ike and his brother watched Tracy walk back down the corridor.

Kenny punched him in the arm. “I don’t know why the two of you don’t just sleep together and get it out of your system.”

Ike choked. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Kenny smiled smugly. “So you don’t deny you’re hot for her.”

“Because it’s too dumb to bother denying.”

“Ike’s got the hots for Tracy,” Kenny added in a singsong voice.

“Mom must have dropped you on your head when you were a baby. You’re seeing things that aren’t there.”

“And you’re protesting a little too much, especially since you still haven’t taken your eyes off her admittedly great legs.”

“Leave her legs out of it,” Ike growled.

Kenny held up his hands in mock surrender. “She’s all yours. Or would be if you’d get your act together.”

“Trust me, the last thing Tracy or I want is a relationship.”

“Who’s talking about a relationship?” His brother plugged change into the soda machine. “I’m talking about doing the horizontal mambo until neither of you can move or snipe at each other.”

Damn it. Even Kenny’s teasing words were enough to spike Ike’s temperature. He did not need to remember what that had been like with Tracy. “I know for a fact we’re not compatible.”

“How do you know unless you give it a sho—” Kenny stopped and stared at him. “Holy cannoli. You already did it, didn’t you?”

Although Ike had never told anyone what had happened, Kenny and his other brothers had picked up on something between him and Tracy—perhaps the electricity in the air whenever they were together—and delighted in giving him crap about her. Maybe if he admitted it, they’d lay off. “A long time ago. It didn’t work out. Game over.”

Kenny studied him, his usually happy-go-lucky expression serious. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.” His brother didn’t know how much.

By unspoken agreement, they walked back toward Maggie’s hospital room.

“Are you starting in goal again tomorrow night, bro?”

“For sure.” Ike appreciated the change of subject. “What about you? Are you playing? Did the extra practice sessions help?”

Kenny’s confidence had been knocked when Coach Macarty had made him a healthy scratch for the past couple of games. Ike had reassured him that it wasn’t unusual for a player in his first season with an NHL team to struggle—the game was much faster and harder than in the minors—but his brother wouldn’t be happy until he was back in the lineup.

“Coach said he’d let me know in the morning.” Kenny sighed. “It wasn’t so bad. Watching from the press box gave me a different perspective on how the game is played here, so my positioning on the wing should be better. I just need a chance to put what I’ve learned into practice.”

Ike clapped his brother on the back. “Keep at it, kid, and after the All-Star break in January, it’ll click.”

“I hope so. I want to do my part, but I feel like I’m a step slower than everyone else.”

“Right now, we all need to pick up our play, and that includes our big-money guys.”

The Cats’ start to the new season had been okay, but not great. They were fourth in their division and a couple of places out of a playoff spot in the Eastern Conference. But their points tally masked the real win-loss picture; the extra points they’d gotten for going to overtime or a shoot-out blurred the fact that they’d lost every freaking one.

Man, he hated shoot-outs and not just because he was 0-for-4 so far. Damn skills contest. They might as well toss a freaking coin. The Cats had lost a couple of their shoot-out stars when his brother Tru had moved to Denver and Vlad had returned to Russia, and to date no one else had stepped up. Sure, Ike could do better, too, but he needed a little help from his teammates. Like at least one of them could score. Then again, they weren’t scoring much during regulation, either. Worse, they couldn’t hold on to a one-goal lead. The number of times the Cats had given up the tying goal in the last two minutes of a game was plain crazy.

They were all adjusting to the new coach’s “run and gun” style. The veterans, like Ike, Jake and the captain, Scotty Matthews, preferred a more defensively responsible system, where even their best forwards would back-check to help out. The kids liked the focus on offence, but tended to be a bit wild. Shots on net hadn’t gone up. Goals sure as hell hadn’t, either. Ike had had to play out of his mind to scrape the wins they’d got.

Still, Kenny needed reassurance from his oldest brother, not a lecture. “The season’s only a month old. Things’ll get better. Besides, everyone has to sit out at some point in their career. Even JB Larocque.”

“Sure, but no one’s going to send a superstar like JB down to the minors if he doesn’t deliver. I don’t want to go back to riding the bus now that I’ve made it to the show.”

Jake came out of Maggie’s room in time to hear Kenny’s words. “Hang in there, bro. It’ll work out.”

Kenny grinned. He didn’t stay down about anything too long. “If you old guys say so, I guess I’ll be okay.”

Ike cuffed his brother around the head. “You need to learn to respect your elders and betters, brat.”

“Yeah, but I’m only seeing elders here.”

“We old guys have clout with the boss. You don’t want to be benched because you gave us too much lip.” Despite Ike’s ribbing, he was proud to have Kenny playing alongside him.

“This is why I need Tru here.” Kenny shook his head. “He has a sense of humor.”

“Speaking of which, I called him to give him the news,” Jake said. “He’s going to try to stay an extra day when the Avalanche comes east in December.”

“It’ll be good to see him.” Ike grinned. “It feels weird not to have him skating with us.”

They’d all been shocked when the Cats had shown Tru the door during the off-season instead of re-upping his contract. Hardshaw and Macarty had favored the Canucks’ stud defenseman, Troy Davidson, over the second-oldest Jelinek brother. Unfortunately, Davidson hadn’t yet shown the form he’d had in Vancouver, which had made Tru’s absence more difficult.

“Yeah.” Jake sighed. “At least he’s enjoying Denver. He’s slotted into the team well and the Avs are doing better than anyone expected.”

“That’s because we taught him everything he knows,” Ike said loftily.

They all laughed as they headed back into the hospital room.

Despite his best intentions, Ike’s heart squeezed when he saw Tracy cradling baby Joe. Her expression was soft and adoring as she murmured nonsense to her drowsy nephew. The maternal look suited her. He couldn’t understand why she preferred contracts and clients over a child of her own.

Perhaps Ike was projecting his own feelings. His career wouldn’t last forever. He hadn’t considered what he’d do once it was over; he didn’t like to think about it. That was tempting fate. The hockey gods had a funny way of knocking you on your ass when you thought everything was set. But as retirement loomed closer, he’d begun to feel frustrated that his personal life had stalled. It wasn’t as if he were a monk—he’d dated lots of nice women. Seeing Jake and Tru so happy in their marriages had made Ike question why he hadn’t been able to find anyone special.

The answer was simple. He hadn’t thought seriously about a woman since Tracy. Because of Tracy. Even now, four years later, the shock of her turning him down flat ricocheted through him. He hadn’t even proposed, just asked if she wanted to move in with him.

“Your turn. I have to go.”

Ike blinked as Tracy handed him the baby. The little dude snuggled into Ike’s neck; the scent of baby powder laced with a hint of Tracy’s perfume assailed him.

“Leaving so soon?” He hadn’t meant the question to sound accusing.

“I need to phone my mum and let her know she has a grandchild.” Tracy’s icy tone was the stinging rebuke her words weren’t.

“Right. Sure.” He stumbled over his words, but she’d already turned away and was saying goodbye to the others.

Crap. Why was it that when he was around her he couldn’t open his mouth without sticking his big foot in it?

Tracy didn’t acknowledge him again before leaving. Not even when she gently caressed baby Joe’s head. Ike didn’t need his kid brother’s censuring look to know he’d screwed up again.

Maybe it was time to admit he couldn’t handle being around her. He should treat her like any other problem. Do them both a favor and steer clear of her. Out of sight, out of mind. That might even open the door for him to find someone who was better suited to him.

Pleased with his solution, he gently rubbed Joe’s back. The loud burp that erupted from the little guy startled them both. The timing was coincidental, not a commentary on his plan, Ike reassured himself, even as he hoped the kid wasn’t right.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?” Tracy muttered as she spooned food into two cat bowls.

Moppet, the more sociable of her black cats, replied with a meow.

Poppet licked a white-tipped paw and washed one of her pricked ears.

“It’s crazy,” Tracy continued. “I can handle any other man, except Ike bloody Jelinek. Whenever I’m near him, he winds me up and I do something stupid.”

With impeccable timing, Moppet hacked up a hairball.

Tracy laughed as she cleaned up the mess. “Maybe tossing coffee on him was a tiny overreaction.” She held up her thumb and forefinger to show a small gap. “But it annoys me that there’s one rule for his career and one for mine.”

Despite Tracy’s determination to marry someone completely different from her father, she’d ended up with his twin—only with a more polished veneer. She’d left home at eighteen and headed to Manchester, where she’d waitressed by day and studied business by night. Hank Turner, a visiting academic from New Jersey, had been one of her lecturers. She’d fallen hard for the charming American, marrying him within weeks. It had taken much longer to realize her mistake.

At first, Tracy had overlooked the warning signs, attributing them to the difficulties of adjusting to life in New Jersey. It had taken Hank’s affair to rip the blinkers from her eyes. To Tracy’s chagrin, she realized she’d become exactly the kind of acquiescent wife she despised.

Poppet head-butted Tracy’s ankle, reminding her to hurry up with her food.

Tracy put the bowls down and the two felines dived right in. “Why do I still let Ike get to me? Why can’t I ignore him?”

Because he was a hard man to ignore. His presence, even when he wasn’t speaking to her, sent that delicious hum through her. The problem was he always did something to turn that hum into a jarring buzz.

When they’d first met, his charm had swept her off her feet. His gentlemanly manners and serious nature were rare in a business full of inflated egos. And their physical connection had sizzled. A touch, a look, a smile and they’d been all over each other like sex-starved teenagers. Ike had treated her as if she were special, both in bed and out. It was only later that his courtliness had begun to feel controlling. Caring suggestions had become polite demands. Compliments about her work had sounded more like criticism.

When Ike had asked her to give up her house and move in with him, she’d panicked. First her house, then her business, then her self-respect. Terrified that history would repeat itself, she’d refused. That final argument had been brutal; the bitter words they’d each said were still a thorn in her heart.

Trying to escape the memories, Tracy went upstairs to her office on the middle floor of her Victorian and sought refuge in work. But as she waited for her computer to power up, her mind went back to Ike.

That he still couldn’t understand that her company was more than just an income for her had confirmed that she’d made the right decision. Making Your Move might not keep her warm at night, but it enabled her to sleep soundly—secure in the knowledge that the only person who controlled her life was her. Good or bad, success or failure, she made the decisions. When Making Your Move was number one, she’d have proved to everyone who’d doubted her that she was strong and capable on her own.

Speaking of which, the sooner she got the paperwork to Glen, the quicker he’d sign. Tracy pulled up the Bridgers’ proposal document and began to make the changes she and Glen had discussed.

She’d just emailed him the revised copy when she looked at the clock and saw that it was already after eleven. Surprised it was so late, Tracy suddenly remembered her mother.

Damn it. Tracy had been so wrapped up in work, she’d forgotten to call her. She grabbed the phone.

Doris Hayden answered after a dozen rings. “Do you know what time it is?”

Tracy puffed out a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry, Mum. But...”

“You know I don’t like calls after ten.”

Actually, that had been one of Tracy’s father’s edicts. Despite his death eighteen months ago, her mother still clung resolutely to every blasted one. Ordinarily, Tracy would have challenged this, but she wasn’t in the mood for a row that would only rehash ground they’d covered many times before.

Especially as she’d already had one of those tonight.

“Congratulations,” she said with determined brightness. “You’re a grandma again.”

“Maggie had her baby, then?”

“A gorgeous boy.” She filled her mother in on the details. “Jake took loads of pictures and he said he’ll email them to everyone in the morning.” Before her mother could complain that she didn’t know how to use the computer—Dominic Hayden hadn’t seen the point in his wife learning—Tracy added, “I’ll print them off for you and pop them in the post.”

“I won’t get them for a week.” Her mother sniffed. “I don’t know why you girls have to live so far away.”

No. She never had.

Tracy tried to head off the waterworks she knew were coming next. “Both Jake and I offered to pay for you to come over here. I can still book you a flight.”

“I don’t like to fly by myself. Can’t you come over and get me?”

Tracy gritted her teeth at the pathetic tone. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get away right now. We can organize a car to pick you up at home and someone to help you through the airport. Then we’ll meet you when you land.”

“I couldn’t. It’s too much on my own. And Maggie and Jake won’t be able to fly to England until the summer. I’ll miss out on seeing Emily and Joe for so long.”

That’s when the tears started, her mother’s usual ploy for getting her own way.

Tracy held firm, even when Doris Hayden hit all the guilt-trip hot buttons. Tracy was emotionally wrung out by the time her mother gave up and hung up on her.

Unfortunately, she was also too wired to sleep. Tracy had a glass of wine, hoping that would help her relax, then went to bed. She tossed and turned for several hours. Finally, she admitted defeat and rose. After making a large cup of tea, she went back to her office and focused on the one thing she knew would settle her mind—work.

* * *

IKE WASN’T AS superstitious as most goaltenders, but he knew it was a bad sign to fall flat on his ass in the pre-game warm-up before he’d even made it to his crease.

He jumped up and made a show of poking at a nick in the ice, then called for a water bottle from the bench.

Kenny brought one for him, laughing. “I was expecting a freaking crater the way you wiped out, bro.”

Ike let his brother’s comment slide. He knew Kenny was excited to be back in the lineup after having been a healthy scratch again for the past week’s games. Kenny had only played once—the night after baby Joe’s birth—before Coach had benched him again. The rationale had been that they’d needed one of the tougher fourth-line guys in Kenny’s place for the harder, more physical games, against those opponents. Facing a younger, faster team tonight, Kenny had earned his place back.

“Do you need salt to throw over your shoulder?” Jean-Baptiste Larocque added as he joined them. “We don’t want to start the game with bad mojo.”

Ike flicked the bird at the star forward, then poured water into the divot. “Nah. No bad luck involved. I must have caught it funny.”

Jake skated over and tossed Ike a puck to smooth off the newly frozen patch of ice. His blue eyes were rimmed with red and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

“Has your son been keeping you from your beauty sleep again, Bad Boy?” he said, to deflect the attention from himself.

Jake’s glare didn’t have its normal cutting edge. “Yeah. I’m thinking of getting a hotel room so I can get my pre-game nap in peace.”

“You can always crash at my place, bro.”

“Thanks.” Jake leaned on his stick. “I may take you up on that. Especially when we play Detroit and Toronto.”

Both teams were riding winning streaks and had strong road records. The way the Cats had been playing lately, they’d need to bring their A-game to have a chance of getting any points off either team.

“Anytime. There’s a bed with your name on it.”

“As long as you don’t take a nap while you’re on the ice, Bad Boy.” JB punched Jake in the arm and skated off.

The captain, Scotty Matthews, frowned at them as he glided past. “Stop flapping your gums and get some action going. The Oilers are going to come out hard tonight.”

The Islanders had handed Edmonton their butts last night in a game the Oilers should have won. Edmonton’s players would be looking to redeem themselves, which wasn’t good news for the Cats, who desperately needed the win.

Ike tossed Kenny the water bottle, then kicked the puck at his net. “Just fixing the ice to make sure no one else falls on their ass.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Kenny saluted Matthews, before dumping the bottle at the bench and joining the rest of the guys skating drills.

Scotty skated back around, then stopped. “So, do you need to sacrifice a chicken or something to ward off the bad luck after your tumble?”

Ike rolled his eyes. “Not this time.”

Scotty slapped him on the back. “You sure? We could razz that new kid on the equipment team.”

They both laughed. For a moment, Scotty looked like the young rookie he’d once been, rather than the grizzled veteran he was now. As Scotty skated off, Ike knew he’d miss him when the captain retired at the end of the season.

Retirement. Even though it loomed on the horizon at some point for Ike—sooner rather than later—it wasn’t something he looked forward to.

Pushing that thought from his mind, Ike warmed up, easing the stiffness from his muscles as he prepared to face shots. He practiced sliding between the pipes, right side, then left side, then right again. He’d need to be on his guard for fast break-outs tonight, especially with the speedy Oilers’ wingers.

He put his fall out of his mind and focused on seeing the puck as it began to fly at him from all angles, courtesy of his teammates. Strangely, after a dozen shots, he still didn’t feel on his game. Biscuits sailed past him when he should have stopped them.

He frowned, holding up his glove to stop the drill, and took a long drink from his water bottle. After squirting water over his face, he got back into position and nodded to start the routine again.

After another round of shots, he adjusted his stance and his grip. But things still didn’t feel right. He forced himself to focus harder, to visualize success. Gradually, he dragged himself into the right mental zone and settled into a comfortable rhythm. He was satisfied he’d be ready for the game, but something still felt off.

Ike left the ice early and headed back to the locker room. Maybe he needed to start over. He stripped down to bare skin and started to dress again, from the jock up. Right sock, then left. Right pads, then left. Pants. Skates. His trusty old chest-and-arm protector, the one he’d worn ever since he’d come up from the minors. He probably should replace it next season—it had been patched so many times—but he hated breaking in new gear.

Finally, he slipped on a clean jersey and got his mask and gloves ready. He downed his pre-game Sprite as he listened to last-minute instructions from Coach Macarty.

Confident he’d done everything so he could go back out onto the ice with a clear head, Ike began to slip into game mode. As the locker-room clock counted down, his mind became sharper, more focused.

At the three-minute mark, Scotty rose and headed to the front of the locker room. As he had every game since becoming captain, he said, “Let’s go out there and show them the Ice Cats play the best damn hockey in the world.”

Ike joined him, ready to lead the team out. When the doors swung open, he tapped the doorframe for luck and strode forward. The roar of the crowd, along with the announcer’s introduction, welcomed him to the ice. This time, he made it to his crease without mishap. Satisfied, he roughed up the blue paint and repeated his post-to-post sliding ritual.

“Good game, bro.” Bad Boy tapped his stick against Ike’s pads.

He nodded. “You, too.”

The horn sounded and Ike removed his mask for the national anthems.

As the singer began “O Canada,” Ike’s gaze slid over to the family seats. His heart warmed to see his mom and Rory, her husband, and Jake’s parents, with Emily between them. It felt weird to see the gaps for the women who weren’t there. Maggie, who couldn’t leave Joe yet, and Tracy, who always joined her sister and was a staunch Cats’ fan. It was unusual for Tracy to miss a game, even for work. Was she okay?

Not your business.

The singer switched to “The Star-Spangled Banner” and Ike forced all thoughts other than those of the players he was about to face from his head.

The first period started quickly, with Ike facing a shot within seconds of the puck dropping. He snatched the biscuit out of the air, stealing a scoring opportunity from the Oilers’ rookie wonder kid. Throwing it back out to the corner, he allowed himself a satisfied grin. Whatever had been bothering him earlier was out of his mind now.

All around him, his d-men and the Edmonton top line chirped at each other as they fought for the puck. The air was filled with grunts as bodies thudded into each other. Ike poke-checked and blocked, shoved and kicked—anything to keep that hunk of rubber out of his net.

Finally, Jake broke free and hit Kenny with an outlet pass, clearing the zone and starting a rush to the other end.

Ike kept his eye on the action while steadying his breathing and rolling his tight shoulders. A whistle stopped play. He grabbed a drink from his bottle and skated around his crease before resetting his position.

The Cats lost the face-off, but regained the puck. The battle at the other end of the ice was fierce. A linesman’s arm shot up, alerting Ike to a delayed penalty against the Oilers. Ike started to head to the bench for an extra attacker, but they touched up almost immediately and play was blown dead.

The Cats’ power-play unit cycled the puck well, but didn’t get any clear-cut chances.

“Get shots on net,” Ike muttered. “Their guy has a rebound problem.”

In the blink of eye, everything changed. One of the Oilers intercepted a sloppy pass and a breakaway was on. Two on one. Kenny and JB raced back to provide cover.

Ike watched the rush unfold, making sure he kept the puck in sight.

The shot stung as it bounced off his chest. He corralled the puck and sent it out to Kenny, but once again it was intercepted by the opposition.

There was a wild goal-mouth scramble.

Bodies went flying. Sticks clashed.

The Oilers’ agitator, “Steeler,” planted himself on the edge of the crease, his huge body screening Ike’s view.

“Get your ass out of my face,” Ike growled.

The crude reply involved an anatomically impossible suggestion, followed by a creative one involving a sheep. Ike jabbed the guy with his stick and tried to find the puck.

All of a sudden, play seemed to unfold in slow motion.

A Cats’ player was tripped and fell into one of the Oilers. They both caromed toward Steeler, who got hit from the other side by Kenny.

Ike, his gaze glued to the puck on the wonder kid’s stick, got sandwiched between the tumbling players. He saw the shot and stretched out with his catching glove to snag the biscuit as the mass of bodies hit the ice in a pile.

The whistle blew.

Steeler fell on top of Ike.

A skate blade flashed.

A sharp pain shot through Ike’s arm.

Shocked, he stared at the cut that had gone through both his jersey and his protector. A thin red line marred the skin beneath.

Around him, players peeled off and got to their feet.

“Crap, man. I’m sorry,” Steeler said as he helped Ike up.

“Are you okay?” a linesman asked.

Ike nodded, but the pain in his arm worsened. “I think I’d better get this looked at.”

He’d barely finished speaking when the cut suddenly widened and blood spurted out.

Ike clamped his other hand on his arm and started to skate to the bench.

He was almost there when his legs went weak. His vision blurred. His legs crumpled.

The arena went silent. Then, there was a collective gasp.

Someone in an Oilers jersey wrapped an arm around his waist. An Ice Cat grabbed him from the other side. Between them, they pulled him to the bench and shoved him through the gate into the care of the trainers.

Stars danced in front of Ike’s eyes as the trainers helped him stumble toward the locker room. Fire burned in his arm. He was vaguely aware of blood, wet and warm, pulsing though his fingers. Bile rose up his throat.

Once in the locker room, he gave up his loose grip on consciousness. As everything faded to black, he wondered just how much bad luck that damn fall had brought him.

CHAPTER THREE

“I REALLY APPRECIATE you staying late to get those invoices finished, Carla.” Tracy smiled wearily at her intern, then pushed her chair back from her desk and stretched. “You’re a star.”

Carla snapped a rubber band around the stack of envelopes and tossed it into the box, ready for posting the next morning. “No problem. Happy to do it. Now that I know what I’m doing, it’ll be a lot easier next month. I’ll be able to take that job off your hands completely.”

“You’re already proving yourself to be indispensable. I can’t believe you’ve only been here a week.” Tracy turned off her computer and took a sip of her long-cold coffee.

“Is it too early to ask for a permanent job?” Carla asked teasingly.

Tracy laughed. “We’ll see how you do for the rest of the month. There might be room in the budget, if those two new pitches for Helping Hands come off.”

Impressed with the younger woman’s skills and initiative, Tracy was already looking into ways for Carla to stay on once her internship was over. If she continued to be as good as she seemed, she’d be a great addition to the company.

In return, Carla would get invaluable experience at a time when other college graduates were struggling to find even part-time jobs. There were also ways in which Making Your Move could support her if she wanted further education and training. Tracy liked the idea of helping someone else achieve their dream.

“Cool.” Carla pulled on her coat and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Are you sure I can’t do anything else for you before I go?”

“Thanks, but no. I’ve kept you late enough as it is.”

“In that case, I’ll head off. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch the third period of the Cats’ game on TV when I get home.”

“I’m sorry we both had to miss the game. I promise we’ll make the next one.”

Tracy had offered to take Carla, an avid Cats’ fan, to the arena using Maggie’s ticket. Unfortunately, an issue with the Chabals’ air shipment from Paris had meant a frustrating day with long conversations with Tracy’s French counterpart and a lot of chasing around. Although the problem had finally been resolved, it had been midafternoon before she and Carla had been able to tackle the invoices.

“Can’t wait.” The younger woman grinned. “See you tomorrow.”

Carla was barely out the door when Tracy’s phone rang. Her stomach dropped when she heard Maggie’s voice; it sounded like her sister was crying. “What’s wrong, Maggie?”

“You haven’t been watching the game?”

“No. Carla and I have only just finished. Why?”

“There’s been an accident. On the ice. It’s bad.”

“Was it Jake? What happened?” Tracy leaped up and rushed out of her office.

“It wasn’t Jake, sis. It was Ike.”

Tracy’s throat seized. Her knees went weak. She gripped the banister at the top of the stairs.

“Tracy?” Her sister’s voice sounded far away.

“Ike?” she managed to force out. “What? Who?”

“There was a goal-mouth pile-up. He was cut by a skate.”

Tracy clapped a hand to her mouth, feeling slightly nauseous. “Where?”

“His left arm.”

Tracy released a breath. Ike wore special gear that covered his chest and arms. “How’s he doing?”

“They don’t know. He’s in surgery. The team doctor managed to stop the bleeding, so the paramedics could get him to the hospital.”

Tracy frowned. “He was cut that badly, even through his protector?”

“The blade sliced through a weak part in the padding—where it had been patched before—cutting Ike’s forearm almost to the bone.”

“What?” The word came out as a squeak.

“Apparently, his protector was over ten years old. You know how athletes get about their lucky equipment.”

“How can someone so obsessive about everything else be so blasé about his protective gear?” Fear sharpened her tone.

“They all think they’re invincible.”

“Until something happens to them.” Tracy’s mind raced. Ike injured... Cut... Surgery.

Anyone who followed hockey knew that skate injuries to players’ arms and legs—even on one horrific occasion, a player’s neck—were not unusual. There would be stitches by the dozen, months-long recovery periods and scars that would make Frankenstein’s monster look like a wimp.

Her stomach rolled at the thought of Ike suffering. His arm. Probably season-ending. Could even be career-threatening.

She didn’t question the urgency that finally drove her to move. She had to know. To see for herself that he was all right.

“I’m heading to the hospital now.” Tracy ran down the stairs, grabbed her purse and keys and hurried toward her car. “Is anyone with him?”

“Yes. Karina and Rory followed the ambulance, along with Jake’s parents. They should be in the waiting room. The guys will be along when the game is over.”

“They’re still playing?” Tracy shouldn’t be shocked. She knew that’s what generally happened. Still, it didn’t seem right. “How can either team be in any state to think about the game when a player is so seriously injured?”

“I don’t know, but they’ll tough it out. The Cats will try to get a win for Ike.” Maggie sniffed. “Will you call me when you know what’s happening? I can’t be there myself because of Joe.”

“Of course.”

Tracy made it to the hospital in record time, thanks to lights in her favor, little traffic on the roads and breaking the speed limit at every possible opportunity. Luck was even on her side with a parking space right near the entrance.

Members of the hockey media were milling about the reception area when she pushed through the doors. From their concerned expressions, she got a sense of just how bad Ike’s accident must have been. These guys had seen it all and they looked shaken.

Even though no one but family or team personnel were allowed in the surgical waiting room, Tracy persuaded the receptionist to call through and get permission for her to go back there.

Ike’s mother wrapped her in a hug as soon as Tracy walked into the large gray room. The tiny older woman looked as if she’d aged overnight. Her body felt frail, yet her hug was tight. Tracy had always admired her strength, knowing what Karina had been through in her life, but never more so than now.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Karina’s voice wobbled. “Ike will be, too.”

Tracy sent Rory a worried look over his wife’s head. “Has there been news?”

Rory’s weathered face looked ashen as he gently turned Karina into his arms. She laid her head against his barrel chest with a hiccupping sigh.

“Not yet,” he replied. “Ike’s still in surgery. The nurse said it would be another couple of hours.”

“He’s in good hands,” Jake’s dad, Gio, added. “Dr. Gibson is one of the best.”

Tina Badoletti nodded. “The Ice Cats made sure Ike got the top guy.”

They all stood silently for several moments, lost in their own thoughts.

Desperate not to dwell on what was happening to Ike and knowing they were all in for a long wait, Tracy ushered the two couples over to the dark gray couches and encouraged them to sit. “Can I get anyone a coffee or tea or anything?”

She took their orders and went in search of vending machines. As she waited for the drinks to dispense, Tracy sent a silent prayer heavenward that Ike would be all right.

* * *

“IT’S BEEN TWO HOURS.”

Karina’s quavering words broke the tense silence of the waiting room and jolted Tracy out of her mental debate.

Should she stay or go? She felt out of place sitting here. Technically, she wasn’t family and she was hardly Ike’s friend. Not that anyone had made her feel unwelcome. Still, the longer they waited, the more awkward she felt.

Tracy wanted to know for sure that Ike had got through the surgery and his arm was fixed. That he’d be all right. She didn’t want to wait to hear about it on the news or through social media. Plus, she’d promised Maggie. It wouldn’t do any harm to wait a bit longer.

The room was more crowded now. They’d been joined by a couple of trainers from the Ice Cats. Callum Hardshaw was there, too, though just outside the room where they allowed cell phones, getting updates from the team. The game had ended with a 2–1 win for the Ice Cats and Tracy expected Jake, Kenny and the rest of the team to join them shortly. They’d be pleased to have won for Ike, but she doubted anyone was celebrating. Ike’s youngest brother, Linc, was on his way from college. Tracy had arranged his transport.

“It’ll take as long as it takes, love,” Rory reassured his wife. His calm conviction seemed to bring the level of anxiety in the room down a notch.

“The nurse said they were almost done.” Jake’s mum patted her friend’s arm.

“But it can’t be good that it’s taking this long,” Karina fretted.

“Better the surgeon takes his time and does a fine job,” Gio Badoletti said.

Rory squeezed his wife’s hand. “He’s probably making sure his stitches are extraneat.”

Karina managed a watery smile.

Gio added, “Ike needs his catching arm fixed right the first time. We all know he’ll want to be back between the pipes as quickly as possible.”

Tracy could see from Karina’s expression that the last thing she wanted was for her son to strap on his skates again. But Karina was a hockey mum; she knew it was futile to expect anything else.

A commotion from outside the room had everyone starting nervously. Kenny pushed through the door, followed by JB Larocque, Scotty Matthews and several other Ice Cats players. A larger group of players hung back, waiting in the hall. Coach Macarty stood in the doorway talking in a low voice with Callum Hardshaw.

“Any news?” Kenny wrapped his mother in a big hug.

“Not yet,” Rory replied as Karina shook her head. “But we should hear soon.”

Jake brought a burly guy into the waiting room. From his damp hair and the scar next to his mouth, Tracy assumed the man was a player, but she didn’t recognize him. The guy hung back, watching anxiously, as Jake went across to the family group.

“I hope it’s okay, Aunt Karina, but I brought Darren Steele with me. He and Ike played together in juniors. Steeler feels terrible about what happened and asked if he could come with us.”

“Of course it’s okay. I remember Darren.” Karina waved the man over, hugging him when he joined them. “It’s not your fault. Accidents happen. On another day, it could have been you injured. Though I pray that never happens.” She crossed herself, then kissed her fingers and sent the kiss heavenward.

Steeler shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his feet. “I appreciate that, ma’am. I’d never hurt Ike intentionally. We always grab a beer whenever we play each other. In fact, we’d planned to go out tonight.”

“You can have that drink if...” Karina caught herself. “No, when he goes to Edmonton in the new year.”

“For sure.”

A tall gray-haired man in surgical scrubs came into the waiting room and captured everyone’s attention.

Tracy’s chest tightened as she scanned the man’s face. He looked tired, but she couldn’t tell whether his news would be good or bad.

Dr. Gibson cleared his throat. “I’m sure you all have a load of questions for me, but let me give you the good news first. Ike came through surgery well. Although there was extensive damage to his forearm, we were able to repair it all.”

Relief flooded through Tracy.

Even so, she felt ill as the surgeon went on to describe the injury—three severed tendons, one partially severed tendon, a sliced artery and some nerve damage. “Thankfully, the prompt attention of the Ice Cats medical staff meant that Ike’s arm was in the best condition it could have been for us to work on. That made my job a lot easier.”

“Will he make a full recovery?” Rory’s quiet question reverberated round the room.

The surgeon gave a weary smile. “It’s too early to tell, but the signs are good and there’s no reason he shouldn’t eventually be as good as new. I’ll know more in a couple of days, once the swelling has gone down and his arm has begun to heal.”

“What kind of recovery time are we looking at, doc?” Kenny asked.

“Hard to say for sure. Everyone’s different. I’d expect Ike to be back on the ice in three to four months.”

The room took in a collective breath. Months. That meant Ike would be out pretty much for the rest of the season. A huge blow for the Ice Cats.

On the bright side, at least he would be back.

“When can I see my boy?” Karina asked.

“He’s in recovery right now. Once he’s back in his room, he’ll be allowed visitors. But only family tonight. The rest of you can see him tomorrow when he’s had a chance to rest.”

His words broke the tension that had hung like a pall over the room. Everyone started to talk at once as relief washed over them.

Ike was going to be okay. Tears burned in Tracy’s eyes. The tightness in her shoulders eased. She felt weak, as if she had nothing left in the tank. Thankfully, no one was paying any attention to her, giving her the chance to pull herself together.

As she got to her feet, getting ready to leave since she wouldn’t be able to see Ike tonight anyway, an arm dropped across her shoulders and pulled her close.

“How’re you holding up, beautiful?” JB Larocque’s dark eyes searched hers.

The Ice Cats star had been an honorary member of the Badoletti and Jelinek clan since Jake had helped him out of trouble in his rookie year. Both Maggie and Tracy had a soft spot for the young charmer, too, thinking of him almost like a younger brother.

“I’m okay, thanks.” She managed a half smile, though her lips felt stiff.

“Uh-huh.” JB wiped a tear from her cheek with his forefinger. “I can tell.”

“I’m relieved. It sounded like a terrible injury. Maggie was worried, so I said I’d find out how Ike was doing for her. Though these days, she’ll hear about it more quickly through social media than waiting for me to call.” Damn it. Why did she have to babble mindlessly?

“Yeah. Hardshaw just left to update the press. They’ll be keen to air his statement, given they’ve been running the footage of the accident almost constantly.”

Tracy’s stomach churned. “That’s a highlight I don’t want to see.”

“It was bad enough being there. Scared the crap out of me.”

“I don’t know how you managed to play on.”

“We had to get the W for Ike.” JB scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

She tilted her head against his, so their temples touched. “He’ll appreciate what you did.”

He sighed heavily. “It still sucks.”

They stood that way for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Then JB straightened and dropped his arm. “I’d better hit the road. I’m wiped.”

“I’ll walk out with you.”

“Don’t you want to see Ike?” He frowned, surprised.

Tracy shook her head. “I’m not family.”

“You’re as much family as I am.”

Though she felt herself wavering, Tracy shook her head again. “I can wait. It’s more important for Karina to see him. She’s worried sick.”

“And you’re not?” There was that probing, all-seeing look again.

“Of course I’m concerned. As I would be if any of you got hurt.” She hated that her voice shook on the last word.

JB held her gaze silently, as if waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn’t, he shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“If you’re ready to go, I’ll walk out with you.”

“Okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I bet Ike would appreciate you stopping by tomorrow.”

About as much as he’d appreciate being sidelined for the next few months. Maybe that’s why she was so hesitant about seeing him. She wasn’t sure he’d want her there. That thought tugged at her heart. “I...uh...should say goodbye to Karina, but I think I’ll just slip away.”

“Then let’s bug out.”

Tracy managed to hold herself together as she walked through the media throng and out of the hospital doors. JB walked her to her car before heading off to his own. Once he’d gone, she lowered her head to the steering wheel, taking several deep, shaky breaths to calm her jittery pulse.

When she got home, Tracy called Maggie to update her on Ike’s condition, fed Moppet and Poppet, then poured herself a glass of wine and sank onto the couch. She switched on the TV, hoping to watch something light.

Unfortunately, she caught the sports news, which led off with the story about Ike. Tracy should have changed the channel, but she couldn’t look away. Her throat burned as she saw the blood spurt from Ike’s injured arm. His pale face and confused expression made her heart ache. A chill went through her as he collapsed and those around him rushed to help. The network kept replaying the moment of the injury. It looked almost harmless. It wasn’t like Steeler had stamped on Ike. A quick swipe and the damage was done.

The coverage switched to the press conference at the hospital. Hardshaw kept details to a minimum, briefly summarizing what the surgeon had told them. Coach Macarty braved the barrage of questions, though he clearly looked as shaken as his players. He shut the interview down when a thoughtless journalist asked about the Ice Cats’ goaltending situation while Ike was out.

“This isn’t the time for that question. Right now, our thoughts and prayers are with Ike and his family,” he snapped before stalking away.

Finally Tracy flicked off the television. Her mind kept replaying what she’d seen in all its glory. Despite the surgeon’s reassurances, she couldn’t quite believe that Ike was all right.

Her hand trembled as she lifted her wineglass to her lips. Perhaps she’d been a bit hasty, rushing out of the hospital. Maybe if she’d seen Ike, she’d be able to move past the gruesome images etched into her brain.

It would only take a few minutes to stop by and see him tomorrow. Hopefully, he’d still be too groggy from the operation to pay much attention to why she was there. If not, she could claim that Maggie wanted reassurance. Regardless, it was something she had to do. She’d worry about any fallout later.

CHAPTER FOUR

EVERYONE WAS LAUGHING AT HIM.

Ike tried to skate across to his crease, but he kept losing an edge and falling over. Meanwhile, the Rangers players jeered at him as they fired pucks into the open net. The score kept flashing up—rising and rising—more like a basketball tally than hockey.

The laughter grew. Ike looked up to see himself on the Jumbotron. Why was he wearing a hospital gown? The other players catcalled as they pointed at his bare ass on the screens.

Determination burned in his gut as he crawled across the ice. He would make it to his goal if it killed him. Inch by painful inch, he drew closer, until he could grab one of the posts to pull himself up. But before he could, the red pipe turned into skate blades, gleaming in the lights of the arena.

Pucks flew at him from all sides. He tried to block or catch them, but kept missing. Finally, one came at him at the perfect angle. He reached out to snatch it from the air, but as he did, his arm went back into the goal and those skate blades closed around it. He screamed in agony as they sliced his arm with the finesse of a sushi chef and the crowd mockingly chanted his name.

“Ike. Wake up.”

Ike felt himself jolt, but couldn’t move. His limbs were heavy, as if weighted down. His arm hurt like a son of a bitch. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His heart pounded furiously against his ribs. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. His eyes opened, but the bright light hurt, so he shut them again.

“It’s okay.” A gentle hand wiped a cool, moist cloth across his forehead.

The comforting touch helped push the nightmare from his brain until all that remained was the sharp, throbbing pain in his arm. He frowned as he recognized the soothing voice. A familiar scent teased his nostrils, light and fresh above the antiseptic smell.

There was no way Tracy would be mopping his brow.

“You were dreaming.” Definitely Tracy’s voice. “The nurse said the anesthetic can have that effect on some people.”

He must be dying; no way she’d talk that softly to him otherwise. A sorrowful pang tugged at his chest as he mourned lost chances. Why hadn’t he done more to try to win her back?

Then, as she wiped his forehead again, reality crashed into his brain. Because no amount of trying would have made a damn bit of difference.

Still, if he was dying, he might as well enjoy his last moments with her. He forced his eyes open, despite the glare of the sun through the window.

“Let me close the blinds a little.” Tracy walked to the window.

Ike breathed a sigh of relief as the light faded.

A nurse came in and checked his vital signs and his IV, then adjusted his pillows and showed him how to raise the bed. “If you need more pain relief, you can press this button.” She touched the control lying beside his left hand. “Don’t be a martyr. It doesn’t do you or me any favors.”

He nodded his understanding, grateful that the drug took effect almost immediately—seeping into his veins and making him feel light-headed. He didn’t like the wooziness, but he ached all over and his arm felt as though those blades were still slicing him.

Once the nurse had left, Tracy returned to his bedside. She hovered uncertainly. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was nervous.

“I...uh...should probably go. I just wanted to check you were okay. For Maggie and...” Her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I hope you get better soon.”

He didn’t want her to leave. “Si—” he tried to speak, but struggled to get a sound out.

“Here.” Tracy put a glass of water in his good hand, twisting the straw so it was against his lips. “Dry mouth is another side effect.”

The cold water was blissful against his raw throat. After several sips, he said hoarsely, “Sit. Stay. Please.”

She hesitated for a few seconds, then perched on the edge of the chair, looking like she might jump up again at any moment. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got ran over by a Zamboni. Twice.”

“That second time is always the killer.” Her lips curved briefly. “You gave everyone quite a scare. Poor Steeler was beside himself.”

As she spoke, memories began to flood back. But Ike’s mind was still muddled and he found it hard to distinguish between what had really happened and what had been a dream. Clearly the whole “bare-assed in a gown” thing wasn’t true. The damage to his arm, though, was all too real.

“I remember the pileup and making it off the ice. After that, it’s a blank until I woke up in this room.” He frowned again. “I don’t even know if the Cats won.”

“They did, and Kenny got you the game puck. Though I don’t know why you’d want a souvenir of that game.”

Ike shrugged. “It’s one to add to the collection, I guess. It’s not like I get hurt too often.”

“I think you’ve made up for your lack of injuries with this one.”

“For sure. The doc said it’ll be a long time before I can even practice, let alone play.”

“I know that’s tough, but once your arm heals, you’ll be as good as new. You’re lucky.”

“Real lucky—I’m out until at least March.” Everything was clear now, even the things he wished he could forget.

“You could have been out permanently.” Tracy’s voice softened. “You’ll be back on the ice before you know it.”

“In the meantime, I’m not freaking allowed out of bed until I get the okay from the doc. I can’t even twiddle my thumbs.” His laugh was edged with bitterness. “Then when he does let me up, all I can do is physio on my arm. I can’t work out until I’m cleared from that—which could be weeks.”

How the hell was he supposed to keep himself game-fit if he couldn’t exercise? Not even a stationary bike. Ike had promised he’d be careful not to do anything that’d damage his arm—damn it, he wouldn’t risk setting his recovery back further—but Dr. Gibson had been resolute. Ike’s arm was the first, the only, priority.

The one glimmer of hope had been the surgeon’s confidence that Ike’s overall level of fitness would mean his recovery should be faster than for a non-athlete. But even that had come with a caveat—as long as Ike followed instructions to the letter.

“I’m sure it’ll pass more quickly than you think,” Tracy said with a reassuring smile.

Ike shot her an incredulous look. “The hell it will. It’ll be worse than waiting for the play-offs to end when you haven’t made the cut. You just want them to freaking award the Cup already, so you can start thinking about the next season. This...” He clenched his jaw against the urge to yell. “This will be pure torture.”

And he’d suffer alone. He couldn’t hang with the team. Though, truthfully, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It’d be the worst kind of torment—being around the guys but not able to practice or do anything to help the team. Having to wear a suit and sit in the press-box for every home game—man, he hadn’t done that since his rookie year. Nah—better to stay away altogether until he had the green light to skate.

“All you can do is take it one day at a time.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No. Sorry.”

Ike slumped back against the pillows. “At least if I was a horse, they’d shoot me to put me out of my misery.”

“For heaven’s sake.” Tracy rolled her eyes. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You act like you’ve been told you can’t ever play again. Think of those poor blokes who suddenly develop medical conditions—like heart irregularities and strokes—that are career-ending. Your injury isn’t even season-ending.”

Her lecturing tone brought out her English accent. It made him feel like a petulant child.

It also made him hot.

Not that he could do anything about that right now. Instantly, his brain filled with images of how they could take advantage of the bed without jarring his arm. It would require a little athleticism on Tracy’s part. If she climbed up and positioned herself...

Stop! What was wrong with him?

He shifted, hoping she wouldn’t notice his distraction. “I’ll be fine once I can get out of this bed. Even better once they let me go home. At least I don’t have to wait on Physio to sign my discharge papers.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

His mind zipped back to the fantasy he’d had only moments ago. Crap. That wasn’t what he needed to be thinking about. Embarrassed by his one-track mind, he replied more harshly than he intended. “What do you mean, ‘help’?”

“I don’t know. Anything you need doing for you at home? Whatever will make life easier while you’re not able to do much for yourself.”

“You’re kidding,” he snapped. Her offer scraped his already sore ego. He hated feeling helpless. Useless. That’s all he needed—Miss Freaking Superwoman feeling sorry for him and treating him like an invalid. “I’ve been in hospital less than twenty-four hours and you’re already touting for business.”

Tracy reared back as if he’d hit her. “That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

“Yeah, right. I know you—Making Your Move is all you think about. Well, I’m not going to be a guinea pig for your new services. You’ll have to find some other way to get the Ice Cats interested.”

“Where the hell did that come from? I never mentioned my company or my services.” Tracy pushed the chair back and stood. Hurt darkened her eyes. “I was trying to be friendly. I should have known better.”

Ike knew he’d made a big mistake, but couldn’t bring himself to back down. “Come on, you’re not telling me you wouldn’t have offered me a special discount?”

“Actually, I’d have helped you for free.” Her tone was icy. “I’d have done whatever you needed out of the goodness of my heart.”

Way to go, numb-nuts. What’s your next trick?

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she held up her hand to stop him.

Tracy stalked to the door. She reached for the knob, but instead of turning it, she marched back to the bed. She then took a glossy brochure out of her purse and slapped it down on the bedside table. “I might as well get hung for a sheep as a lamb. Should you require any assistance during your recovery, this is a list of the services Helping Hands provides. Feel free to call and make an appointment and I’ll see if I can fit you in.” Her lips twisted. “Assuming I’d even accept you as a client. One of the perks of being the boss is that I get to choose who I work for.”

It was a good thing hospital doors didn’t slam, though Tracy closed it with enough force to show that she was pissed—as if Ike hadn’t already got that message. Even injured, he couldn’t do anything right with Tracy. Made him wonder why he kept trying.

* * *

WORK DIDN’T PROVIDE its usual distraction. Tracy finally had admitted it to herself after reading the same document three times and not taking in a word. She tossed down her pen and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

She’d been a fool to visit Ike this morning. Why hadn’t she listened to her inner voice when it had yelled that she was making a huge mistake the moment she’d walked into his hospital room? Or when it had kept yelling, as her heart had softened at the sight of him asleep, his body so still, his arm heavily bandaged and immobilized from shoulder to fingertip. The beeping monitors and IV drip had made him seem vulnerable. What harm could sitting with him for a few minutes do?

She grimaced as she stuck her mug of stone-cold tea in the microwave to reheat. Those few minutes had stretched to half an hour. She’d kept telling herself she’d leave as soon as he awoke. But when he’d finally begun to surface, he’d been so restless that Tracy had been worried he might hurt himself. Though she was relieved that she’d been able to soothe him, she’d felt awkward and a little foolish once he was fully conscious. Especially as he’d been more or less his normal self—if a little grouchy.

His horrible accusation had shocked Tracy because she’d always thought that despite their differences, he’d at least respected her. How could he believe that turning his injury into a business opportunity would ever cross her mind? Knowing that he thought her capable of such heartless behavior had really hurt.

When had things between them deteriorated so badly?

Could it be fixed? She may not want to marry Ike, but would like them to be able to have a conversation where they weren’t ripping each other apart.

As Tracy was contemplating whether a truce was possible, Carla walked into the kitchen.

“Is there a reason you’re not answering your phone?”

Tracy frowned, confused. “No. Why?”

“Callum Hardshaw’s assistant called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you.”

Reaching into her pocket for her mobile, Tracy remembered that she’d turned the phone off when she’d visited Ike. She turned on the phone to see several missed calls from clients, including the Ice Cats.

“Bloody hell. Is there a problem?”

“No. She just wanted to know if you’d stop by and see Mr. Hardshaw when you go to the Cats’ offices later.”

“I wonder why now. Maggie and I have been trying to get an appointment with him since his appointment over the summer, but he always fobs us off with one of his underlings.”

Carla shrugged. “His assistant didn’t say there was an issue. Maybe he wants to congratulate you on doing a great job.”

“Hmm. Somehow I don’t think so. He isn’t one to waste time with praise for doing what you’re supposed to.”

A little unnerved by the GM’s request, Tracy headed back up to her office and did a quick review of the current Ice Cats projects, even though she knew there weren’t any issues. Everything was running on or ahead of schedule. Making Your Move had even come in below budget on several recent projects.

Oh, well. She’d find out what this was about soon enough.

It felt weird to walk into the Ice Cats’ headquarters that afternoon. Tracy’s eyes were drawn to the team photographs that covered the walls of the reception area. It was as though Ike’s face was highlighted in each one, from the posed annual pictures to the familiar celebratory photo from a few years back of the team sprawled on the ice around the Stanley Cup.

It was stranger still to be part of a meeting as Cats’ management discussed the measures they’d be putting in place for Ike’s absence. Her role was to ensure that the goaltender they wanted to bring up from their AHL affiliate was where he had to be on time and had a place to stay. She also had to make sure the contingency plans could be put into action smoothly and quickly, as required. Tracy couldn’t help feeling guilty. As if somehow she were being disloyal to Ike.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered to herself as she walked down the long corridor toward the offices. “It’s all part of the job.”

About that, at least, Ike would be pragmatic.

Tracy was shown into the GM’s office straight away. She didn’t pick up a bad vibe about the meeting, but she was still on her guard.

Callum Hardshaw rose to greet her, smiling. He was a smartly dressed, big man, with graying hair and a broad face. The scar that bisected his jaw was the only visible sign that he’d been a player himself, though only in the minor leagues.

“Good to finally meet you.” He shook her hand. “My staff has told me positive things about your company.”

“Thank you. That’s always nice to hear.” Tracy took the seat he indicated.

“I appreciate your making time to see me today. I’m taking the opportunity, now the season’s fully underway, to meet all our suppliers. While I’m not a hands-on manager, I like to have a clear understanding of how things operate in my organization.”

“Of course,” Tracy said politely. Hardshaw’s tone and body language were genial, but she still didn’t relax. “What would you like to know?”

“Tell me about your company and how you came to be working for the Cats.”

As Tracy explained what Making Your Move did, she sensed she was being evaluated more closely than the casual conversation might suggest. Hardshaw seemed particularly interested in her other clients and the kinds of projects she did for them. Naturally, she didn’t reveal specifics, but gave him a general picture. He made a point of his approval that she didn’t work for rival teams in any sport, in order to avoid any conflict of interest.

“I understand your sister is married to Jake Badoletti.”

“That’s correct.” She deliberately didn’t say anything further, waiting to see if the GM would make an issue of it.

He didn’t, moving on to the projects she was currently working on. Yet Tracy filed away the fact that he’d raised it for future reference.

“I understand you’d like us to consider your new service, Helping Hands.” Hardshaw pointed to the brochure on his desk. “How do you think it could benefit our organization?”

Pleased by the opportunity to pitch directly to the GM, Tracy sat forward and told him about the kinds of things they could offer: from employing and managing household services, to grocery shopping. She used the Chabals as an example and offered Glen as a reference.

“I see.” Hardshaw steepled his fingers and tapped them against his chin. “Given how much business we do with you, isn’t this a service that should be included for free?”

Now the negotiation started. Tracy smiled. “Naturally, we value your business highly, which is why the Ice Cats already get a number of extras thrown in. In the case of Helping Hands, we feel the returns far outweigh the investment.” She went on to explain not only the benefits to the players, but also how Helping Hands could be used to offset player bonuses.

The interest he showed in that particular argument made her wonder if there were financial issues she wasn’t aware of. Professional hockey was an expensive business.

The meeting ended shortly after. As she walked back to her car, Tracy couldn’t shake the feeling that there was another, less pleasant reason behind Hardshaw’s questions. She wasn’t naive; relocation was a competitive market and there were a number of good companies who could provide the same services she did. That was why she and Maggie worked hard to ensure Making Your Move provided added value with every project. And why it was vital that Helping Hands was successful.

Losing the Cats’ business would be a major setback. Not just financially, but for her longer-term goals. Without the turnover from the Cats, she’d drop way down the market rankings. She wouldn’t let that happen. Not when she was so close to cracking the top three, at last.

Even though she’d had no specific indication that the contract was under threat, it never hurt to be prepared. That, after all, was how she’d made her company a success. Time for a contingency plan of her own.

CHAPTER FIVE

GAME DAY. THE RANGERS. In our barn. Bring it on.

For a few seconds, when Ike awoke, his heart pumped fast as adrenaline shot through his body. Then reality sank in. He wouldn’t be strapping on his pads or lacing up his skates. He was stuck in this freaking bed, just as he had been for the past couple of days, unable to do anything—not even take a piss—without supervision and assistance. Hell, the only thing similar to a normal game day was that he’d taken a nap this afternoon.

This sucked. It didn’t help that the wall clock was opposite his bed, so he couldn’t avoid seeing the time. Four o’clock. His teammates would be arriving at the arena for their pre-game preparations. He could visualize the locker room: equipment laid out in each player’s stall; crisp, clean sweaters hanging on pegs. He could practically hear the grinding of skate blades being sharpened and smell the acrid aroma of heated sticks.

Ike’s chest squeezed as he imagined Kenny and JB cracking terrible jokes, Mad Dog and Blake arguing over what music to play to pump up the team, and Jake and Scotty swapping stories about their kids. Coach Macarty would be scrawling key points for the game on the large whiteboard at the front of the room, while Patrick “Beefy” DuBoeuf, the goaltending coach, would be going through last-minute notes with the Cats’ number-two net-minder—Chaz “Monty” Montgomery.

Ike had to restrain himself from reaching for his phone to call and add his own advice. Not that Beefy would forget anything, but this was an important game and Ike had more experience than anyone at facing their cross-river rivals. He hadn’t missed a game against the Rangers in more than a decade and his record against them was strong.

Monty could handle it—he was a solid goaltender—but he didn’t know the opposition as well as Ike. Although they trained together, reviewed video and discussed players and tactics, being theoretically well versed wasn’t the same as having hands-on experience.

Truth was, the only person Ike wanted between the pipes for the Cats was himself.

Get over yourself! The guys would cope without him.

Doesn’t matter if they can’t. They have no choice.

Just as Ike had no choice.

Like it or not—and he sure as hell didn’t—he wouldn’t be minding the net for months.

He tried to cross his arms across his chest, but only succeeded in bashing himself with his cast. Pain shot through his arm, setting his teeth on edge.

Why hadn’t he listened to the trainer’s advice about his protector? Ellis had warned that Ike was taking a big risk every time he went out onto the ice. The padding was wearing thin, so Ike had felt every puck that bounced off the snow leopard’s head on his sweater. With the speed that some of those guys fired shots these days, it had stung. More often than not he’d had the bruises to prove it.

But Ike had kept putting off replacing his protector. Finding new gear, then wearing it in was a pain in the ass. Plus he felt uncomfortable changing something that worked for him. Not because of superstition, really, but to be practical. He’d figured one more season wouldn’t hurt. How’s that working out for you, dumbass?

“A positive mental attitude is half the battle when it comes to healing.” Dr. Gibson strode into the room. “I’m not seeing much of that in here.”

Ike’s smile felt like a grimace. “Yeah, yeah. Happy, happy. When can I get out of here?”

“The answer won’t change just because you keep asking me.” The doc examined Ike’s arm, pressing gently in various places. “When I’m sure you’ve healed enough for you to be able to move around without doing any damage. A couple more days. Enjoy the rest and the great food.”

Dr. Gibson’s cheery tone bugged the hell out of Ike. “Can I at least get out of bed?”

The surgeon made some notes on Ike’s chart. “Assuming you don’t develop any problems, you can get up tomorrow. But I want you to take it very easy.”

As if he were going to start a street hockey game in the hallway. “About time. I’m sick of staring at these damn four walls.”

“From what the nurses tell me, you’ve had plenty of visitors.”

Ike knew he was lucky so many people had stopped by—his family, his teammates, the back-room staff. The problem was that after asking him how he was, nobody knew what to say. The guys hovered uncertainly, looking guilty every time they mentioned hockey. “I hate lying here doing nothing.”

“I know it’s frustrating but it’ll be worth it. The more care we take at this stage of the process, the quicker you’ll be able to get back to normal activity.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Then maybe today you’ll listen.” Dr. Gibson clicked his pen and shoved it into his shirt pocket. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do when you go home? You know you won’t be allowed to drive or do anything with that arm for at least a month. No lifting, no carrying, no holding, no exercise—nothing that might risk reinjuring your arm.”

Ike shrugged. “I’ll work something out.”

“You can’t take this lightly. I’ll want to be sure you can cope before I discharge you, so I’ll expect to see what arrangements you have in place. I don’t want to have to get the Ice Cats management involved, but I will if I think you’re not taking me seriously.”

“I won’t do anything to jeopardize my recovery, Doc. Trust me. The occupational therapist has already been to see me and I have a list a mile long of what I need to do before I go home.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Nothing warms my heart like a model patient.”

Once the surgeon had gone, Ike puffed out a frustrated breath. Now what did he do? There was nothing worth watching on TV and he was tired of reading and playing games on his iPad. A few more days of this and he’d be certifiable. The evening stretched out ahead of him like a desert. There wouldn’t be any visitors tonight since everyone would be at the arena. He hadn’t made up his mind whether or not to watch the game. He wanted to support the guys, but it might be too painful.

“You’re looking better today.” Ike’s mom bustled into the room, followed by Rory.

She rushed forward, then halted abruptly by his bed, as if unsure how to hug him without doing any damage. Ike sighed inwardly. She’d done the same thing each time she’d visited.

“I won’t break, Ma,” he said gently.

Karina looked anxiously at her husband, waiting for his encouraging nod before wrapping Ike in her arms. Her familiar scent—a combination of sugar and spice from baking and apple from her perfume—warmed his heart.

“Your mother made your favorite.” Rory set a bag on top of the bedside cabinet. “Enough baklava to feed the entire floor.”

“That’s great. Thanks.” Ike hugged his mom with his good arm.

She kissed his forehead, as if he were still a small boy. “Food is the best medicine. Make sure you don’t eat it all. Let your nurses have some, too.”

“But there won’t be any left if I let them near it.”

“They deserve a reward for putting up with you, boyo.” Rory patted Ike’s right shoulder.

“I’m sure he’s been as nice as gold,” his mom said earnestly, though there was a twinkle in her green eyes.

“As good as gold, Ma,” Ike corrected gently.

“Or as nice as pie,” Rory added with an indulgent smile.

Karina threw up her hands. “Pie, gold, nice, good. It’s all the same, no?”

Ike and Rory exchanged amused looks. “Sure.”

“You boys.” His mom shook her head at them, her gray curls bouncing. “Anyway, what did the doctor say about you going home?”

Ike made his tone upbeat. “I should be out of here in a few days. I can’t wait.”

“Rory and I think you should come stay with us. You need somewhere to rest and I can look after you until you’re better.”

He loved his mom, but he really didn’t want her fussing over him. “I appreciate the offer, Ma, but I’ll be fine.”

She frowned. “But who’s going to cook for you and make sure you have groceries? I don’t want you living on takeout. And who’ll look after your place and do your laundry?”

“I have a cleaning service. The rest I’ll figure out.” He was saying that a lot today. “Besides, you guys are newlyweds. You don’t want me around, cramping your style.”

“Your mum would feel better if she had you under her roof.” Rory crossed his arms over his chest, making it clear that whatever his wife wanted he’d make damn sure she got.

“I appreciate that, but I’ll be out of action for several weeks. You can’t look after me for that long. What about your trip at Thanksgiving?”

Ike and his brothers had all pitched in to send their mom and Rory on a visit to see his family, followed by a belated honeymoon in southern Ireland.

“We’ll delay it.” Karina waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”

“That’s crazy. It’s all planned and you’ve both been looking forward to it.”

His mom planted her hands on her hips. “I can’t leave you by yourself.”

“I’m a grown man, Ma. I’ll find someone to help me out.”

“Who can look after you better than your mother?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Jeez. There’s no good answer to that question.”

Her lips twitched, but she shook her head. “Unless I take care of you myself, I can’t be sure you won’t overdo things.”

“There’s no chance of that. Anyway, the doc has said he won’t let me out of here until I have the proper support in place.”

“At least someone is being sensible,” she huffed.

“It’ll all be covered. Trust me. There’s no need for you to postpone your trip.”

He’d make damn sure; he wouldn’t ruin his mom’s first vacation in years. “So, have you got some new outfits to take to Ireland?”

His mom gave him a look that said she’d allow him to distract her. The rest of the visit was spent talking about the upcoming trip.

All too soon, it was time for his mom and Rory to go to the arena to watch the game. Kenny was in the lineup again and they wanted to support him.

Ike shoved down his envy. “Have a good time.”

“It won’t be the same without you in net,” Rory said, understanding in his eyes.

“Tell everyone to give the Blueshirts hell and tell Kenny to have a good game.”

His mom hugged him. “I expect to hear what you’ve ‘figured out’ tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up the list the occupational therapist had left him. “See, working on it now.”

Ike waited until his mom and Rory had gone before reading the papers. There was a crap-load of stuff to arrange and not much time to do it. His frustration grew—he couldn’t use his freaking arm, but the list made him sound like an invalid.

Still, if he wanted out of here, he had to get it sorted. Starting now. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.

Ike went down the checklist to see what he could cross off easily. The cleaning service. They might do extra chores for him, like laundry. He reached for his cell and dialed their number. Unfortunately, no one answered, so he left a message and continued down the list. But he only got halfway through the page before tossing it aside in frustration. He couldn’t check anything off without a crazy amount of internet research to find out which companies were reputable. Then he’d have to check references and get quotes. How the hell was he supposed to manage all of that from here?

The simple answer was he couldn’t. But he knew someone who could.

Ike reached for the Helping Hands brochure Tracy had left him. It was the perfect solution. She’d do the legwork and present him with options and prices. All he’d have to do was say which ones he wanted and write a check.

Unfortunately, the chances of Tracy working for him were probably close to zero after the way he’d treated her. Bad enough that he’d been an ass when she’d visited, but he’d attacked the very thing he needed—her business. She wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire.

Ike hadn’t had the chance to apologize because she hadn’t been back to see him. He’d planned to fix things once he was out of the hospital. Clearly, he couldn’t wait that long.

The problem now was that she’d think the only reason he wanted to apologize was that he needed her help.

Ike swore. Just like every other damn thing to do with his injury, he had no choice. He did need her help. And fast.

Perhaps she’d soften toward him if he showed he respected her business. He might not like that work always came first, but he admired what she’d achieved with Making Your Move. He could offer to spread the word about Helping Hands. Not just within the Ice Cats’ organization, but other NHL teams, too.

He should also grovel. Yeah. Probably do the groveling first.

Before he could change his mind, Ike grabbed his cell and dialed.

* * *

HELL HAD FROZEN over and Satan was skating on his personal hockey rink.

Why else would Ike’s name be on her caller ID?

What did he want? She rolled her eyes. The easiest way to find out was to answer. She was tempted to let his call go to voice mail and see what message he left. But returning his call would put her on the back foot. Making him drive the conversation put her in control.

She took a calming breath and answered. “Making Your Move, Tracy Hayden speaking.”

“Yeah. Hi.” He sounded startled, as though he hadn’t expected her to answer. “It’s Ike.”

She kept her tone civil but cool. “Hello.”

Silence. Tracy could hear him breathing. He was probably waiting for her to say something, but she was determined not to speak first.

“So,” he said finally. “I...uh...owe you an apology.”

“You do.”

More silence.

He sighed heavily. “I was a jackass.”

Tracy blinked, surprised. “You were.”

“I’m sorry.”

She bit her lip, not prepared to let him off that easily. “I see.”

“I could blame the drugs—damn pills make me dopey as hell. Truth is I’ve been feeling sorry for myself and I took it out on you. Your offer touched a nerve and I reacted badly.”

His honesty took her aback. “Next time I’ll remember not to be helpful.”

“I hope this is the last time I’ll be in this situation. Anyway, I said some things I didn’t mean and I’m really sorry.”

From his stilted delivery and his clear discomfort, Tracy believed his regret was sincere. Still, she got the feeling there was more to his call than an apology. “Okay.”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Your apology is accepted,” she said politely.

“Good. Great. Thanks. So, are you going to the game tonight?” he asked.

“I’d hoped to, but I have too much work.” She hadn’t meant her answer to be a test, but she was interested to hear his response.

“That’s a shame. Should be a good tilt.” He didn’t sound chastising or snide. Full marks for effort.

She continued cautiously. “I wouldn’t normally miss a game against the Rangers, but I have a lot to do before Mme. Chabal arrives this weekend. She wants everything I proposed and the Bridgers have agreed to fund it all.”

“Congratulations. That’ll be a nice boost for Helping Hands.”

Ike was batting a thousand. Not only had he remembered the name of her new service, he actually sounded pleased for her. Yet she couldn’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Thanks. The team are considering extending this service to other players, so I’m pleased. Hopefully, from there, we can expand to our other clients. Even so, I’ll be sorry to miss the game. I take it you’ll be watching on TV?”

“Probably not. It’s hard enough when you’re sitting on the bench as backup. At least then there’s the chance of being called on to help out if things go south. It’s hell knowing that if the Cats are losing I can’t do anything about it. I hate feeling useless.”

“I can understand that.”

“The flipside is it’ll be a long evening, stuck here in this bed. Watching the game will help the time pass more quickly.”

Tracy felt sorry for him. He sounded miserable. “You’re still not allowed up?”

“Nope. Maybe tomorrow. I just have to get through tonight.” He paused, then said, “If you get your work done early, it would be good to have some company.”

That was the last thing she’d expected from him. His deliberately casual request, with just a hint of hopefulness, made her heart clench. She wanted to say she’d be there, but something made her cautious. “I don’t know. I’ll see how it goes.”

“For sure. No problem either way.”

His tone was so like her mum’s—the pathetic one that said it did matter—yet Tracy didn’t feel the irritation she should have. Ike wasn’t into manipulative guilt trips. He had no problem calling a spade a bloody shovel. He was trying to be polite.

Which made her feel even sorrier for him. For someone who needed to be in control, his situation must be terrible. What harm could there be in a short visit?

“Actually, I have to pick up some documents from a client near the hospital later. I could stop by to see you after that.” It wasn’t strictly true—she didn’t have to pick them up tonight—but he didn’t need to know that. She didn’t want him to think she was rushing in to see him just because he’d asked. Even if that was exactly what she was doing.

“Great. I’ll look forward to it.”

Tracy sat staring at the phone for a few moments once she’d hung up.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that Ike had a hidden agenda, but she couldn’t figure out what it would be. Perhaps when they were face-to-face it would be easier to see. Until then, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t acknowledge the hope sparking within her that Ike’s apology and desire to see her were just what they seemed.

For the next hour, Tracy worked solidly to finish the comprehensive information package she’d been compiling for Lise Chabal. Tracy was proud of how well it had turned out.

Tracy would’ve loved to have had something similar when she’d first arrived in the States. Even though she spoke the language, unlike Lise, everything had been so different and Tracy had floundered. With the benefit of hindsight, she knew that was when her reliance on Hank had started. His guidance had smoothed the way for her and it had been easy to slip into the habit of doing whatever he said.

There was a certain smug satisfaction in knowing that Hank’s lump-sum divorce settlement had helped her start Making Your Move. And in knowing that she’d proved him—and her father—wrong when they’d said she couldn’t make it work. She’d not only survived, but if Helping Hands was the success she thought it could be, she’d be sitting pretty at the top of that market.

On that cheery note, she should get to the hospital. Tracy switched off her computer and grabbed her coat and purse.

When she got to Ike’s floor, Tracy nipped into the visitors’ bathroom to put on some lipstick. Just to tidy up. She pulled a face at the mirror. Who was she kidding?

As she signed in on the ward, the nurse in charge greeted her cheerfully. “Watch out. Ike’s in a grumpy mood. Something about his team already losing.”

“Not just losing, but down 2–0 after only five minutes.” Tracy smiled. “Sorry, you probably don’t care about the details.”

“Not really.” The nurse grinned. “But when it affects your patient, you have to be ‘interested’ in all kinds of things. Hockey’s better than fly-fishing or ultimate cage fighting.”

“That’s true.” Tracy laughed. “Hopefully a visitor will cheer him up. Though even that won’t work if the Cats get blown out.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for a turnaround, then.”

Tracy had just reached Ike’s room when she heard him roar.

“I don’t need a freaking straw in my drink and I don’t want you to cut up my food.”

A young blonde volunteer in a striped uniform rushed past Tracy, her face flushed. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck with him.”

Tracy smiled sympathetically, then strode into the room. “Someone’s in a foul mood.”

“You’d be miserable, too, if you weren’t even allowed to use a freaking knife and fork,” he growled, crossing his arms awkwardly over his broad chest. The bandages that covered his arm from fingers to shoulder hampered his movement.

The flowery pastel-blue gown should have looked silly on such an obviously masculine body. Instead, it emphasized his honed chest and arms, making him look more manly, rather than less. But Ike didn’t need to know that.

Nor that he’d made her pulse skip. “Good job I’m here to give the staff a break from your charming personality.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Do not push me.”

“Seriously?” Tracy rolled her eyes. “That might work on a sweet young thing like that candy striper, but I’m immune.”

Ike’s green eyes turned fiery, challenging her to take him on.

She tamped down her body’s instant heated response. Besides, she shouldn’t tease a wounded man. Especially one whose pride probably hurt as much as his arm.

“How are you feeling?” she asked brightly as she sat in the chair beside his bed. “Are you at least being sensible about taking painkillers?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted grudgingly. “And yes, I’m taking the pain meds. My arm aches and throbs like a son of a bitch if I don’t. But it’s improving, so I won’t be on them much longer.”

“Has the specialist said when you can go home?” She grinned. “I bet the nursing staff are pushing for tomorrow.”

“If only. I’ll be out of here by the weekend.”

“So soon? I thought you’d be in here for a few more weeks. Maybe even a month.”

“Not a chance. No way am I sticking around here for the next four weeks.”

“Four to six weeks.” The nurse she’d spoken to earlier bustled into the room and cleared away his dinner tray. “And you’re lucky you’re young and healthy or it would be a darn sight longer than that.”

Ike shrugged. “My season’s pretty much done either way.”

“That’s no way to look at it.” The nurse tutted. “And this behavior is unacceptable. If you can’t treat my staff with respect, I’ll come in here and stick a feeding tube down your throat. Got it?”

Tracy’s lips twitched. She could tell Ike wanted to dare the nurse to try it, but wisely bit his tongue.

“Yeah,” he huffed. “Tell the girl I’m sorry. It burned my butt to have a kid treating me like I was some old dude in a wheelchair.”

“It’s your own fault. How exactly had you planned to eat steak by yourself?”

“I didn’t think of that. I was sick of soup—I’ll float away if I eat any more—so I ordered something I could get my teeth into. Next time, I’ll order a sandwich or something I can eat one-handed.” He made it sound like cyanide with a side order of arsenic.

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