A win-win negotiation?

Truman “Tru” Jelinek’s life is pretty much off the rails. With his professional hockey career on thin ice, and his personal life falling apart, he’s ready to implement some serious changes. Helping Jenny Martin—the only girl he’s ever loved—make her dreams a reality is a good place to start.

There’s just one problem: Jenny doesn’t want his help. She barely wants to speak to him. But Tru is prepared to negotiate a deal that even Jenny can’t refuse. As trading favors turns into sharing passion, he has to face the truth that when it comes to Jenny, the game is far from over.

“I don’t need charity from anyone.”

Jenny’s voice was flat, hard. “Least of all from you.”

Despite the surge of irritation at her stubbornness, Tru said calmly, “All I’m offering you is a foot in the door. I’ll make a few calls and get you some job interviews. The rest is up to you.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers. Then three fingers. Then two again. What was that damn salute anyway?

Jenny smiled wryly. “You and Jake were thrown out of the Scouts.”

He grinned. “It’s the thought that counts.” Sobering, he caught her gaze. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. You have my word.”

Jenny’s smile faded.

Damn. Wrong thing to say. “This time, I will keep my promise,” he added quickly.

She studied his face for a few moments, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

It was a start. Now he had to make sure he didn’t screw things up.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to the world of the New Jersey Ice Cats! I was thrilled and touched that so many of you wrote to tell me how much you enjoyed A Perfect Distraction (MILLS & BOON Superromance, September 2013) and that you wanted more stories about these strong, dedicated and delicious hockey players. I’m especially pleased that you wanted Tru and Jenny to have their own book, and I’m happy to be able to bring it to you.

I love reunion and second chance stories, because it’s so satisfying when two people you feel are meant to be together find their way back to each other. When love overcomes painful mistakes and finds a path through the minefield of the past.

Jenny and Tru are two such people. Jenny intrigued me from the moment she strutted onto the page. I knew the “queen of the puck bunnies” wasn’t a typical groupie and that her past with Tru held the answer to her behavior. As for Tru, I knew that whatever he’d done, it had been with the best of intentions. He wasn’t a bad person, just a stubborn man, with a tendency to believe he knew better than anyone else.

I hope you enjoy reading Tru and Jenny’s story and discovering how they find their way back to each other. I love to hear from readers, so please drop me a line at anna@annasugden.com or Box 174, Regis House, 23 King Street, Cambridge CB1 1AH, England.

Anna Sugden

A Perfect Trade

Anna Sugden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Former marketing executive and primary school teacher 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 writing or researching hockey players for her books, she makes simple 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 heartwarming romances and her shoes at www.annasugden.com.

For Keith, who makes every day happy and special. I love you.

For my wonderful “baby” sister, Manda. This one’s for you!

Acknowledgments

Kate Lutter and Maria Imbalzano for their invaluable critiques—I miss our meetings!

Beth Andrews, Terri Garey, Kathleen Long, Janice Lynn and Tawny Weber—who always have my back.

The Romance Bandits—for their love and support.

Contents

Dear Reader

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

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EXTRACT

CHAPTER ONE

“THE TOWN OF Elmside is tonight mourning the passing of one of their beloved and most popular figures, Pastor Douglas Boult.”

The newscaster’s words made the laughter die in Jenny Martin’s throat. Her mind froze, abandoning the celebrity gossip she’d been sharing with her friend Maggie. Her coffee cup dropped from her nerveless fingers as she spun to look across the Ice Cats’ family room toward the large flat-screen television. She barely noticed the hot, wet patch on her black jeans; her attention was focused on the photograph of the smiling, white-haired man that now filled the screen.

The smiling face of evil.

Bile churned her stomach as the newscaster read tributes from local dignitaries.

“...Pillar of the community...champion of youth programs...a spiritual leader...”

“Are you all right?” Maggie laid her hand on Jenny’s arm. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A specter from her past, more like. “I’m fine.”

Her murmured words lacked conviction, but she couldn’t explain. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Use these, Jenny.” Maggie’s daughter, Emily, thrust a paper napkin at her.

When Jenny looked uncomprehendingly at the little girl, Emily pointed at the damp patch, then began rubbing at the stain herself. After a moment, Jenny took over, making a few halfhearted swipes, before tossing the crumpled napkin in the trash. “Thanks, Em.” Putting words together was an effort. “Great job.”

“All right. What’s going on?” Concern darkened Maggie’s eyes.

“I’m okay.” Jenny wanted to plead with her friend not to press, but couldn’t form the words. Then her cell phone started to play “Dancing Queen.”

Her sister. Saved by the bell. Sort of. “I have to take this. I’ll be outside.”

As Jenny crossed the room she felt Maggie’s worried gaze on her back. Once outside in the lower concourse, the backstage of the Ice Cats Arena, Jenny answered her phone.

“Have you seen the news?” Lizzie asked without greeting.

Jenny nodded, then realized she needed to speak. “Yes.”

“Do you need me to come home?”

“No.” The word erupted from her; desperate, urgent. She forced herself to sound calm. “You have classes.” She swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

She had to be.

“Are you sure? I’m only a few hours away. College isn’t like school—I won’t get detention for missing a few seminars.”

“Really, Lizzie, I’ll be okay.”

“But people will want to speak to you about him. Even though we haven’t been part of Uncle Douglas’s life for over a decade, someone will make the connection and want a quote or something.”

Her sister was right. Everyone in their parish knew that Douglas Boult had become Jenny and Lizzie’s guardian following their parents’ deaths in an accident. It wouldn’t take much digging for the media to unearth the records.

“If that happens I won’t say anything more than ‘no comment’ and I don’t want you to, either.”

“Not even to set the record straight? It makes me sick. They’re talking about him like he was a saint. They need to know what kind of monster he was.”

“Please, Lizzie.” Jenny couldn’t bear the thought of people knowing what he’d done to her. Her shame was enough of a burden. “He can’t harm me anymore. Let the past be buried with him.”

“But he doesn’t deserve to be put up on a pedestal. The man was a sexual predator.”

“I know what he was.” Better than anyone. Her voice was soft, but firm.

She had never shared the full extent of her uncle’s abuse. Not even with her sister, who knew what Jenny had suffered to protect her. In fact, Jenny had only ever trusted two other people enough to tell them part of the story and one of those—her boyfriend at the time—had been a huge mistake.

Pain sliced through her; the memory of his betrayal, as fresh and sharp as if it had happened last night, rather than thirteen years ago.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” Her sister’s words trailed off.

“I know. It’s okay.” Jenny cleared her throat, trying to ease the tightness. “I just don’t think it’s worth opening that can of worms. No one will want to believe what Douglas did and, without proof, it’ll be our word against that of a supposedly good man—a man of the cloth—who’s no longer here to defend himself.”

“You’re right.” Lizzie sighed. “They’ll retaliate and it’ll get nasty.”

“I’m not ashamed of what I do in my spare time, Lizzie.” Being the de facto queen of the puck bunnies wasn’t everyone’s idea of a “hobby.”

“I’m not ashamed of you, either. But some people wouldn’t understand. They’d put two and two together and get twenty-two. They’d turn what we said about Uncle Douglas against you. It’s bad enough that he’ll never be punished for what he did. It’s not fair that the truth could ruin your life, too.”

“We both know life isn’t fair.” Jenny made her voice bright. “Anyway, did your professor like your paper on movie remakes?”

Lizzie accepted the change in subject with only a slight hesitation. “He hated it. The man’s a dinosaur.”

The sound of male voices made Jenny turn. Players were heading down the corridor toward the family room. Unlike the boisterous joviality there would have been after a win, they were subdued. Not much to celebrate after a sixth straight loss. As they passed Jenny, they each nodded or lifted a hand in greeting.

“I have to go, sis. The guys are coming out of the locker room.”

“I forgot you’re at the game. Say hi to Jake and the others.”

“I will.”

As Jenny hung up, Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti and Truman “Tru” Jelinek stopped beside her. Their expressions were grim; the strain of the loss etched across their faces.

She passed on her sister’s message and hugged Bad Boy, deliberately focusing her attention on him, not his best friend. “Tough night, guys. The ice was tilted against you.”

“Yeah.” Jake hitched a shoulder wearily. “It’s been that way since the All-Star break.”

“It’s bound to change sometime.” Her encouragement sounded hollow.

“The odds of us making the cut for the play-offs are pretty slim. We’d have to win ten of our last sixteen games and hope Buffalo and Washington slip up to have a chance of making a wild-card place.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Guess I’ll be improving my golf handicap come April 7.”

“At least you’ll get to spend more time with your personal fan club.”

Jake’s ice-blue eyes lit up. “Speaking of which, time to see my ladies. Catch you later at the restaurant?”

Jenny shook her head. She needed to be alone. “Sorry, got things to do.”

Jake squeezed her shoulder, then strode toward the family room.

Her smile faded as Tru remained standing beside her.

She damned the way her pulse hitched. When would her traitorous body learn that she was no longer interested in the good-looking defenseman? Hadn’t been for thirteen years. Other women might drool over the way his broad shoulders filled out his black, long-sleeved shirt and how his faded jeans fit his muscular thighs, but she’d learned the hard way not to trust his pretty packaging. She could resist those high, Slavic cheekbones and that rugged jaw, too. Her mom had always said “handsome is, as handsome does.”

That made Tru as ugly as sin.

“I saw the news about...him,” Tru said quietly. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, the protective concern in his green eyes touched her. Warmed her. As it had the day they’d met in first grade. He’d had her back when she’d squared off against the class bully over her lunch money. He’d always had her back. Until the night he hadn’t.

The warmth vanished, leaving frost in its place. “I’m fine.”

“If you need anything...”

She cut him off. “You’ve done more than enough.”

“I’m sorry.” Red tinged his cheeks and rose up his neck. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“So you’ve said.” But an apology couldn’t fix the damage he’d done.

Ordinarily, she’d have left it at that. Perhaps it was the news about her uncle. Perhaps it was the shock of the past reaching into the present to smack her in the face. Either way, a door she usually kept locked burst open. “It was too damn little, too damn late, the first time. And it sure as hell doesn’t change anything now.”

He closed his eyes briefly, as if absorbing the thrust of her bitter words. “I was sixteen. I thought I was doing the right thing. Besides, you didn’t tell me who was responsible. How could I have known...?”

“You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone,” she interrupted.

“I thought I could trust a priest.” He thrust a hand through his still-damp, dark hair. “I was trying to protect you.”

“We both know how that turned out.”

Tru’s girlfriend stuck her head out of the family room and cast an annoyed gaze in their direction. “Is everything okay out here?”

“Just peachy.” Jenny’s smile was brittle.

Tru stiffened, then shifted away from Jenny. “I’ll be there in a minute, Melanie.”

Jenny blamed the way her stomach lurched on the evening’s news, not the exchange of lovey-dovey looks between Tru and his girlfriend. Nor the fact that he’d once looked at her that way.

“We’re done here.” Jenny turned on her heel and stalked off.

The sharp click-click of her heels on the stone floor echoed through the near-silent subterranean concourse. Her heart pounded so hard and so fast, she thought she’d be sick, but she didn’t break stride until she slid behind the wheel of her red sports car.

As she turned the key in the ignition, the radio blared with a variation on the newscast she’d seen earlier. Though she smacked the off button, the words reverberated in her head.

Douglas Boult was dead.

He couldn’t hurt her ever again.

Her hands shook on the steering wheel. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned with unshed tears. It was over. Finally.

She was free.

* * *

DATING WAS A pain in the ass, especially on a game night. Truman Jelinek should have known better. “We can eat out another time, Mel, when I’m not so tired.”

He hefted his sports bag into the back of his Range Rover and slammed the tailgate shut, wincing as pain shot through his right shoulder. Crap. That check into the boards in the third period had done some damage. That’s all he needed; another freaking injury. “I just want to go home, ice my bruises and sleep.”

He opened the passenger door for Melanie, tensing when she didn’t get in.

“But you’ve been away for a week and you promised me a night out when you got back. I got dressed up.” She pouted, then fluffed her long, red hair and swept her hand provocatively down her green, silky top and white jeans. “We can skip the nightclub, but why can’t we have dinner someplace nice?”

He started to shake his head.

Before he could speak, she slapped her hands on her hips. “You can rest tomorrow. You don’t have another game for a few days.”

Though they’d been dating for almost a year, Melanie still didn’t understand how much playing took out of him. It wasn’t so bad during a homestretch, but after a West Coast swing—with four games in six nights—then tonight’s grueling sixty minutes against Boston, he was a wreck. Perhaps his age was catching up with him. He’d just turned thirty, but tonight, he felt twice that. “We could go out for dinner tomorrow.”

Melanie frowned as she climbed into his SUV. “You know I teach Pilates on Wednesdays. It’ll have to be Thursday.”

“That’s the night before we play Pittsburgh.”

“It’s not like that one game will make a difference.” She rolled her green eyes. “You won’t make the postseason anyway.”

Tru bit back a retort. He closed Mel’s door, then stalked around to his side. He didn’t need a reminder of how badly the Cats were doing. It had been two years since they’d won the Stanley Cup. Last year, they were bounced from the play-offs in the first round. This year, they wouldn’t even make the cut. Veteran players, like him, were being blamed for the team’s lackluster performance. After the crappy, injury-plagued season he’d had, he couldn’t argue.

“Hey, Tru, you coming to eat?” Jean-Baptiste Larocque called out as he walked past.

“I’ve got other plans.” Tru nodded toward Melanie, who was applying lip gloss. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

J.B. grinned. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“With your track record, that gives me a pretty free rein.”

“Be careful. For an old guy like you, that might be dangerous.”

“This ‘old guy’ can still grind your candy-ass to dust, kid.”

“You keep believing that.” Larocque laughed, before sliding into his Porsche.

Melanie pursed her lips as Tru fastened his seat belt. “You never let me go to dinner with the team.”

Tru swallowed a sigh at the familiar complaint. He couldn’t explain why he didn’t want Melanie at the postgame meals. It just didn’t feel right. Perhaps because taking a girlfriend felt like too much of a statement about their relationship. He and Mel weren’t at that stage yet. Would they ever be?

Would any woman ever be?

He pushed the questions aside. He didn’t want to think about something that deep tonight. Bad enough that the past had raised its ugly head with that newscast about Douglas Boult’s death.

And the torturous encounter with Jenny afterward.

He’d thought he’d dealt with the fact that Jenny would never forgive him. After trying over and over to make up for his mistake, he’d realized a few years back that he was hitting his head against a brick wall and decided to cut his losses. Since then, he’d done his best to stay out of Jenny’s way.

When, like tonight, they did meet, his body reacted for the first few moments as if nothing bad had happened between them. As if she was imprinted onto his DNA.

Melanie continued her complaint. “Jenny always goes. Why can’t I?”

“You know why Jenny goes.”

“It’s not fair. I should have more rights than a puck bunny,” she huffed. “Jake takes Maggie to the team dinners.”

“They’re married.”

Tru swore silently, wishing he hadn’t mentioned the M-word. Melanie had been pressing hard lately to move their relationship to the next stage, but he wasn’t ready. He didn’t need another emotional fight about commitment tonight. With weariness clouding his brain, whatever he said wouldn’t be right.

Time to steer their discussion along an easier path.

He flicked the turn signal. “How about we go to the little Italian place you love? I’ll take you into the city for dinner on Saturday.” He named a couple of hot restaurants in the Meatpacking District. “Your choice.”

Melanie perked up. “Okay.”

The tension eased. For the rest of the drive, she chattered about what she’d been doing all week. At La Trattoria Paulina, the effusive personal service and a complimentary glass of champagne put her in a better mood.

Tru was beginning to think he might escape the evening unscathed, when Melanie dropped her bombshell.

“I think we should move in together this summer.” She flashed a dazzling smile.

The chicken parmigiana turned to rubber in his mouth. Tru gulped down ice water, but still felt as if he had half a puck stuck in his throat.

He forced himself to sound calm, despite the dread rising in him. “We agreed to hold off discussing that until the off-season.”

“Why wait? You’ve only got a few weeks left and there are decisions to be made if we want to be settled before you start again. Like where we’ll live. I think we should sell our places and buy something new together.”

“Whoa. Slow down.” Tru held up a hand. “I don’t even know if I’ll still be in New Jersey next season.”

Melanie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jeez. Hadn’t she been paying attention? “You know I’m a free agent this summer, right? That means my contract is up with the Ice Cats.”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “But they’ll renew it.”

“Not necessarily.” His poor numbers had sparked rumors that the team wouldn’t offer him another deal, but would instead try to trade him for younger, fresher legs.

He knew his best years were behind him. If he could stay healthy, he might manage another seven or eight seasons. He’d been lucky enough to spend his entire professional career with one organization and had banked on one more contract, so he could finish his career there. Sure, trades were part of the game, but he’d never dreamed it would happen to him.

“We shouldn’t make any decisions about the future, Mel, until we know how it’ll all shake out.”

Melanie wasn’t about to be fobbed off. “So you go to a team that’s close by. There are two in New York. Or we could move somewhere nice, like L.A.”

“It doesn’t work that way. I don’t get to pick where I go. I could end up in Edmonton or Detroit or North Carolina.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Then we could do the long-distance thing, right?”

Damn it. He really didn’t want to discuss their relationship or his future tonight.

“Let’s table this until I know for sure where I’ll be.” Tru rubbed his temples, trying to ease the brewing headache. “There’ll be plenty of time to make decisions then.”

Melanie’s gaze narrowed. “You don’t want us to move in together, do you?”

Crap. Like that moment when he knew he’d been caught too far out of his zone and couldn’t beat a streaking winger back, Tru could see the disastrous play unfolding. “Look, I’m tired and sore. We can talk about this on Saturday.”

“I want to discuss it now.” Her lips pinched. “We agreed we wanted more commitment.”

“We agreed to think seriously about where we wanted our relationship to go.”

“I know where I want it to go.” Her voice rose in pitch. “I want to get married.”

His stomach twisted. “Marriage is a big decision,” he said carefully.

“That’s why we should live together first. I know you’re scared of commitment because things were tough after your dad left your mom.” Her smile had a brittle edge. “This way, you’ll see it works, before you have to wear the ring.”

Tru drained his glass. She was right. He wouldn’t get hitched unless he was sure the marriage would last. He didn’t want his kids to go through what he and his brothers had.

The problem was, he couldn’t convince himself to take even the first step with Melanie. That should tell him something, shouldn’t it?

He tried one last time to delay the inevitable. “Let me think about that and we’ll talk on Saturday.”

“You don’t love me, do you?” Her voice wobbled.

Double crap.

Tru wished he could say what she wanted to hear—the words he’d said only once before—but he couldn’t. Not yet. “I care about you. With time...” His voice trailed off, as she shook her head.

“I hoped I was wrong.” Her voice hardened. “You’re still in love with someone else.”

“What?” He blinked, surprised. “Who?”

Even as he asked the question, an image of Jenny flashed into his brain. Her shiny, straight blond hair falling past her shoulders to rest against the scooped neckline of her black top. Faded black jeans that clung lovingly to every inch of her knockout legs and black, spiked-heel boots with buckles and studs that could make grown men whimper. Fire shot through his veins.

He tamped down the unwanted desire and scrambled to cover his ass. “I’m not in love with anyone.”

“Come on, Tru. Don’t try to tell me there isn’t unfinished business between you and Jenny.” Her lip curled.

His short laugh was humorless. “What there was between us has been finished for over a decade.” How could it not be, after what he’d done? “We’ve both moved on.”

“Have you?” Her question rang with disbelief.

Jenny sure as hell had. He’d been reminded of that every damn time she’d left the arena with her player of choice. It had taken a while, but he’d moved on, too, even if he’d never learned to ignore her fully.

“There’s nothing left between me and Jenny.” His tone was flat, uncompromising.

“There’s too much emotion between you, for former high school sweethearts.”

If only she knew. He’d never told anyone—not his best friend Jake, nor his brothers—the truth about what had happened with Jenny. “We weren’t exactly sweethearts.” Not quite a lie. Their relationship had barely started before he’d blown it to hell. “We were buddies, played hockey together. We grew apart.”

Melanie shook her head. “I doubt it’s that simple.”

“It is.” It had to be. He changed the subject away from Jenny to one that wasn’t any more comfortable; it too was littered with guilt and betrayal. “I’ve told you before, I’m cautious because I don’t want to make a mistake. Divorce is painful all round.”

“If you believe that’s the only reason you don’t want commitment, then you’re lying to yourself as well as me.” She rose. “I want you to take me home.”

He knew he should try to rescue their relationship, but he couldn’t find the energy. Where was his “fight till you hear the buzzer” mentality? Gone. Like his chances of winning the Stanley Cup this year. He knew which he felt worse about.

“Okay.” He motioned for the waiter to bring the check.

As he paid, Tru wondered what he could have done to make the evening end differently.

His depressing conclusion was nothing. He didn’t question too closely whether he couldn’t think of a solution to the issues they—he—had or he didn’t want to.

The drive to Melanie’s place was tense and silent. There was nothing left to say. After a stilted goodbye, Tru headed to his apartment.

He closed the door and relief filled him. He should be upset. His relationship with Mel had lasted longer than any other. If there was a chance of him having a happily-ever-after with anyone, he’d have thought it would’ve been with her. Yet, now that it was over, he knew this was the right outcome.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to be married. He thought enviously of Jake and his wife, Maggie. Of the obstacles they’d overcome to be together. Of their happiness. Their marriage would last, for sure.

Tru wanted to believe there was someone special out there for him. Unfortunately, it looked as though the odds of finding that person were as slim as him being voted the league’s most valuable player this year.

He pulled an ice pack from the freezer and pressed it to his shoulder, then slumped onto the sofa and flicked on the TV to catch the Kings’ game.

He should forget about relationships and stick to hockey.

It was simpler. You win or you lose, you move on to the next game. On the ice your only commitment was to the logo on the front of your sweater.

Sure he wanted more than his career, but not unless what he felt for the woman was absolutely right. In hockey and in love, second-best didn’t count.

* * *

JENNY DIDN’T KNOW how she made it home. By the time she closed her front door, her body was trembling. Despite the balmy spring evening, she was chilled through.

She should be dancing through the house, yet she couldn’t shake off the gloom that shrouded her, extending its cold, snakelike tendrils deep inside.

Perhaps it was shock. Jenny had been looking over her shoulder for so long, waiting for her uncle to take revenge for leaving and taking Lizzie with her. Even when Lizzie had grown too old to be of interest to Douglas, he’d made sure Jenny knew that he could make their lives miserable if she took one wrong step.

She lit the fire in the living room, made a mug of hot chocolate and curled up in her rocking chair, her parents’ wedding-ring quilt wrapped around her shoulders. She drew comfort from the handmade quilt, as if her parents were hugging her.

The heirloom was the only thing of her parents that Douglas had let her take when she’d left. Jenny hadn’t cared; Lizzie’s safety had been worth more than everything she’d had to leave behind. And a small price to pay for ensuring her uncle would leave them alone.

Not that she’d trusted him to keep his word. But her only leverage against him would have been to tell the truth about what he’d done to her. But that would have destroyed her and, worse, Lizzie would have been wrenched from her care.

Slowly, warmth seeped into her body, relieving the tension that had tightened her muscles. A tiny spark of joy lit deep inside and she allowed it to glow.

The doorbell rang, jolting her out of her reverie. Jenny debated not answering, but her visitor was impatient and leaned on the bell again. Slowly, she rose and went to the door. Checking through the peephole, she was relieved to see her boss’s craggy face.

Harry didn’t say anything when she opened the door, simply enfolded her in his arms and pressed her to his barrel chest. The familiar smell of Old Spice and the cigars he wasn’t supposed to smoke clung to his tweed jacket.

The tears she’d held back spilled over.

“No need for waterworks,” his gravelly voice rumbled beneath her ear as he patted her back awkwardly.

Jenny stepped away and led him to the living room. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

His jaw set. “They’re tears of happiness. We’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but I’ve never been happier to hear of someone’s passing.”

Harry had insisted she tell him her story the first time they met, when he’d rescued her from a shoplifting charge at the local grocery store, not long after she and Lizzie had left their uncle’s house. Surprised a teenager would steal milk and bread, instead of candy or alcohol, he’d paid for her haul and offered to buy her lunch.

She hadn’t trusted Harry’s motives, but with no money and desperate to feed Lizzie, she’d grudgingly accepted his help. It hadn’t taken long for her benefactor—a billionaire with fingers in multiple media pies—to coax the story out of her.

Harry had been shocked. Impressed that she was trying to take care of her sister, he’d promised to help her keep Lizzie. Despite her lack of qualifications, he’d given her a job and helped her find a place to live. He’d also encouraged her to get her GED and to save her money so she could buy this house.

Harry had threatened to expose her uncle, but Jenny, fearful of the fallout that would rebound on her, had begged him not to. He’d agreed reluctantly, but had sworn that if Douglas ever came after her, he would deal with the man himself.

“You didn’t need to come.” Jenny poured him a glass of his favorite malt whiskey. “I’m all right.”

“I can see that.” Harry eased his stocky frame into an armchair by the fire.

“No, really. The news was unexpected. The emotions overwhelmed me, but I’m fine.”

Harry nodded. “Well, now the old bastard’s gone, it’s time to take a good look at your life and decide what you want to do with it.”

“What’s wrong with my life? Thanks to you, I have a great job, a lovely house and a social life most women would envy.”

He arched a gray eyebrow. “You must want more than that. What about marriage, a family? You’re not getting any younger, missy.”

Jenny had abandoned her dream of a husband and children long ago. She carried too much baggage to trust any man. She’d learned the hard way the only person she could rely on was herself. Safety and security were far more important than romance.

“Lizzie only has a couple of years left at college,” she hedged. “Plenty of time to figure things out when she’s done.”

“Bull crap.” He puffed out a breath. “Don’t wait for the right moment to sort yourself out. Otherwise, one day, you’ll turn around and it’ll be too late.”

At his somber tone, she studied his face anxiously. “Is everything all right? You’re not sick, are you?”

“Fit as a horse.” He waved away her concerns. “Only the creaky joints you’d expect in a man my age.”

Harry looked good for his seventy years. His hair wasn’t fully gray yet and his only wrinkles were the laugh lines around his eyes and bracketing his mouth.

“Then why the heavy sigh?”

“Felicia and Irving want their allowances increased. I should’ve cut the pair of them loose years ago.” He shook his head. “Alice will be rolling in her grave at the mess I’ve made of bringing them up.”

Though Harry was overindulgent with his children, Jenny felt their self-centered greediness was a character flaw that said more about them, than the man who’d raised them single-handedly after his wife’s early death.

“Why couldn’t my kids have been more like you and Lizzie? Thank God I have you both in my life, or I’d be a miserable old goat.”

She laughed. “I’m not touching that comment!”

Harry chuckled, then sobered. “Enough dillydallying around the subject, missy. I want to know what Jenny Martin wants from her life.”

What did she want?

With her thirtieth birthday approaching, she’d been asking herself the same question. She’d been surprised to realize that over the past year she’d slept with very few men; none in the past nine months. The players coming into the league seemed too young and she couldn’t drum up any interest for those already in the show.

The lack of sex didn’t bother her; she’d never been that excited by it. Being a puck bunny had given her a sense of power and control—in a safe environment, among a fraternity she’d trusted—at a time when she’d had none. She didn’t need that anymore. Perhaps it was time to pass her figurative crown to someone younger.

But what would she do instead? There would be a void in her life, especially now Lizzie had pretty much left home. Then there was the tick of her biological clock.

She wasn’t going there. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Come on. There must be something.”

She should be annoyed by his persistence, forcing her to say aloud what she secretly nurtured in her heart, but she knew it was because he cared.

“Sure, I want love and a family. But marriage isn’t in the cards for me, so there’s no point thinking about it.”

“Why not?” He blew a raspberry at Jenny’s arched eyebrow. “The right guy won’t give a damn about your past.”

Harry had never judged her for being a puck bunny. Everyone had to take their own path, he’d said. As long as she wasn’t hurting anyone, especially herself, it was up to her what she did.

Not everyone had the same attitude. Naturally, with that thought, a certain green-eyed Ice Cat skated into her mind. Tru certainly wasn’t the right guy.

“Wherever this man is, I haven’t found him,” Jenny said lightly.

“So have the family without the man. You don’t need a husband to make a baby. Heck, you don’t even need a boyfriend. Just a sperm donor.”

She started as Harry zeroed in on the thoughts she’d dared to have herself. His words triggered the yearning she’d been trying to ignore.

A baby. Her baby. Someone who’d love her unconditionally.

“But the damage Douglas caused...” She paused as fury blazed in Harry’s pale blue eyes. “I was told the chances of me getting pregnant without intervention are nearly zero.”

“Then have IVF.”

She laughed. Harry had never met a problem he couldn’t solve. “I can’t afford it. Even with the generous salary you pay me, I need every penny to fund Lizzie.”

“What if I gave you the money?”

“You’ve already done too much. I can’t take anything more from you.”

He shrugged. “It’s money that won’t go to my kids. You’re welcome to it.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I couldn’t.”

“All right. How about a loan?”

She began to waver. “But I couldn’t begin to repay you until after Lizzie graduated.”

“I don’t need you to pay me back.” He held up his hands. “I know you’ll insist on it, but I don’t care as long as you take the money.”

Though Jenny wanted to grab the offer—realizing it was an opportunity that might never come again—she was wary of leaping into anything rashly. “I’ll think about it.”

He leaned forward, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’ve spent half your life looking after your sister. She’s happy, healthy, confident and doing what she wants. Now it’s your turn. You deserve a chance at your own dream coming true.”

Jenny swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

Long after Harry had left, she sat in her rocking chair, mulling over what he’d said. Perhaps Harry was right. Perhaps this was her time. The mantle of fear that had weighed heavily on her shoulders for so long had finally lifted. Maybe it was a sign she should start a new phase of her life. One that was about what she wanted.

A baby.

Tentatively at first, then with growing enthusiasm, she thought about becoming a single parent. Then she grabbed her iPad and began to do some research. The more she read, the more the idea seemed possible.

It was past midnight before she put her pen down. It could work.

She sat back in the chair, rocking silently. Nestled alongside the happiness in her heart was a new emotion. One she hadn’t felt in far too long. Hope.

CHAPTER TWO

TWO MONTHS LATER.

“Damn, I wish we were still playing.”

Tru’s older brother, Ike, slammed his beer down on the table and glowered at the big screen, where New York had just scored against Washington, in Game 6 of the first round of the play-offs. “We won the season series against the Rangers and would be doing a better job of beating them than those jokers.”

“The last two games ‘those jokers’ played against us, they got a boat race—6–1 and 7–2.” Tru didn’t mention that Ike, the Cats’ goaltender, had been pulled for the backup in both games. “It wasn’t our year.”

Ever since their season had ended, he and his brother seemed to have talked about nothing else. They’d analyzed the situation to death; from the coaches to their teammates, crucial plays in crucial games, injuries, setbacks and what should have been done at the trade deadline to boost their faltering roster. None of which had helped ease the pain and frustration of being on summer vacation while other teams—including their rivals from across the Hudson—were still in the hunt for the Cup.

Ike swore. “You’re not going to spout that crap about ‘only one team can be champions’ and ‘there’s always next year.’”

“Get real. I’m as pissed off as you are, but I have bigger things to worry about. Like where the hell I’ll even be next year. According to the rumors, I’ll be traded at the draft.”

“You should stay off the fan boards and social media sites. Most of the junk they post isn’t worth the time it takes to read.”

At least his brother didn’t blow smoke up his ass. “I can’t avoid it, Ike. My name’s everywhere and everyone’s hammering me about my future. If we were in the play-offs, no one would question if I still have what it takes.”

“Anyone with a brain knows you do. For sure, the people that matter do.”

“I wish I had your confidence. The Cats haven’t even opened a dialogue with my agent, despite Andy pressing them hard.” Tru drained his beer. “They’ll talk to him about his other clients, like J.B. and Vlad, though.”

“Things are dicey in the front office right now. They’re probably stalling until our owners decide what they’re going to do about the Cats management. The Scartelli brothers have said publicly their team’s poor finish in the standings is unacceptable and they plan to put it right. Until it’s clear what’s happening to the coach, they won’t move on player deals.”

“If Max stays, he’ll be forced to shake things up, and a new coach always reworks the team his own way. Either way, it looks bad for me.”

From the TV, the horn sounded the end of the first period and coverage switched to commercials. The waitress brought their steaks and another round of beers. For several minutes, the brothers concentrated on their food.

Then Ike raised a hand in greeting to someone behind Tru.

A familiar tickle between his shoulder blades alerted Tru to who his brother was smiling at. Though he knew it was a mistake, Tru couldn’t resist turning around.

Jenny.

His heart jerked in his chest, as it always did when he saw her. As it had since the first time he saw her, back in first grade.

Her smile, bright for his brother, faded when she noticed Tru. Her expression became cool and distant before she turned away pointedly.

Tru’s gaze lingered, despite his best intentions. She must have come straight from work; she wore a blue suit that matched her eyes. The above-the-knee skirt and coordinating blue spiked heels showed off her long, shapely legs.

His stomach twisted when a man approached Jenny and hugged her, before pulling out a chair for her. There was something familiar about the guy. Tru’s tension eased when he realized it was her boss, Harry Sturridge. Though Tru was annoyed with himself for caring who Jenny ate dinner with, he couldn’t help being relieved it wasn’t a teammate. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with that tonight.

Sturridge said something to make Jenny laugh. The husky sound seemed to reach out and caress Tru through the bustle and noise of the restaurant.

Shifting to ease the sudden tightness in his groin, he forced himself to look away and focus on his meal, slicing into his rib eye.

Surprised when Ike didn’t make his usual crack about the antagonism between him and Jenny, Tru looked up. Ike was staring at the television, where, based on the logo on the screen behind the commentators, a studio panel was discussing the Ice Cats.

“What’s up, bro?”

“I’m not sure.” Ike pulled his cell out of his pocket, tapped the screen and frowned.

Tru knew instantly it wasn’t good news.

Ike didn’t keep him in suspense. “The Scartellis just fired Phillip Hannah. They’ll announce a new general manager in the next few days.”

Tru’s appetite vanished. That was a bigger organizational shake-up than anyone had anticipated. “Max’s days must be numbered, too. A new GM always wants to bring in his own coach. That means changes throughout the roster—maybe even a total rebuild—and the easiest guys to get rid of are the unrestricted free agents.”

Tru pushed back his chair angrily. “That puts my neck firmly on the block.”

“Cool your jets. The team needs experienced players, even in rebuild mode.”

“They have plenty of veterans—you, Jake, Scotty Matthews, Ralinkov, Juergen. Hell, even guys like J.B., Mad Dog and Blake have Cup experience. I’m expendable.”

Ike couldn’t deny that. “The Cats won’t let you go for nothing. They’ll want something in return. On the upside, lots of decent teams need a skilled defenseman.”

“Great. Except I don’t want to move. I don’t want to start over with a new team, in a new town, with a new freaking system. I wanted to spend the summer making sure I was 100 percent fit for next season, not looking for somewhere to live.”

“Talk to Andy. That’s why you pay your agent the big bucks. Find out what it would take for them to re-sign you.”

“Right.” Tru stood and tossed some bills on the table. “Catch you later, bro.”

“You’re leaving good rib eye?”

“Yeah. But you won’t let it go to waste.”

Tru wound his way between the tables, heading toward the door. What a great year; first his love life, then the season and now his career going down the toilet.

Almost too late, he realized he couldn’t avoid passing Jenny’s table. He tried not to catch her eye. Unfortunately, as he walked behind her boss’s chair, their gazes clashed.

His pulse jumped. Heat seared through him.

For an instant, Tru thought he saw an answering fire in her turquoise depths, but it was extinguished immediately and replaced with ice. She averted her eyes abruptly and smiled softly at her dinner companion.

The sting of the virtual slap was as sharp as if her palm had connected with his cheek.

Tru continued without breaking his stride. Her laugh scraped his raw nerves like a whetstone on a steel skate blade.

Jenny’s reaction toward him was the one thing he could rely on right now. Wasn’t that a sorry state of affairs? He pulled out his cell and called his agent, desperately hoping there was something Andy could do to keep him with the Cats. Unfortunately, Tru’s gut told him the chances of a miracle save had just skated out of town with his GM.

* * *

“YOU HAVEN’T LISTENED to a word I’ve said, missy.”

Harry’s good-natured grumble made Jenny blink and turn her head from staring unseeing out of the car window. The bright morning sunshine reflected her giddy happiness.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe it. Everything’s happened so quickly. Last night, when we had dinner, I was plain old me.” She paused, then said softly, “Now I have a live embryo inside me. I’m sort of a mother-in-waiting.”

“You’ve never been a plain old anything. And you make a lovely mother-in-waiting. Do you feel any different?”

“It’s too early to have any symptoms.” Jenny giggled. “I won’t even know if the embryo implanted properly until I take the pregnancy test in two weeks.”

“I didn’t mean morning sickness. Do you feel any different in yourself?”

Jenny thought about it for a few moments. “Actually, I do. It’ll sound silly, but I feel almost serene.”

“My Alice felt the same each time she was pregnant. She’d laugh and say it was the only time in her life she’d ever be described as Madonna-like—the religious one, not the pop star.”

“That’s a perfect description. Though I wouldn’t mind a dash of the other Madonna, too.”

Harry laughed. “You could give the Material Girl a run for her money any day.”

“Thanks, but you’re a teensy bit biased.”

“Never. I’m a cynical, heartless bastard. Ask my kids.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “They take your money.”

“Dollars spend easily, no matter who they come from.”

The lack of appreciation Harry’s children had for their father annoyed Jenny.

He had supported her through every step of the IVF process, with as much interest as if he were the grandfather-to-be. From helping her choose the sperm donor to taking her for ultrasounds. After yesterday’s egg-removal, he’d taken her to dinner, to distract her while she waited nervously to hear if her sole embryo was viable.

Naturally, this morning, Harry had accompanied her to the clinic for the implantation and would doubtless wait on tenterhooks to see if the procedure had been successful.

As if a cloud passed in front of the sun, her happiness dimmed a little. She knew the odds of success were lower than normal because she’d only been able to produce one embryo. Plus, her internal scarring might prevent her carrying a baby to term. “What if it fails?”

Harry frowned at the tremor in her voice. “Then you’ll try again. We discussed this.”

“But it’s so expensive. I can’t...”

“Don’t you dare say you can’t afford it. We have an agreement.”

“I know, but it’s a huge amount of money for one round of IVF, let alone three.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a wealthy man. I still don’t understand why you won’t take the money in a lump sum, instead of separate payments for each attempt.”

“Because there would be too many zeros involved. I’m already worried it’ll take years to repay what you’ve lent me so far.”

“Lizzie’s education is your priority. Once she finishes college, we’ll talk again about a repayment schedule.” Harry patted his breast pocket. “Besides, I have your signed IOU tucked safely in here, in case you ever think of welching on the loan.”

Jenny smiled. She’d scrawled their money arrangement on a crumpled cocktail napkin, in pink Chanel lipstick, at dinner last night, when he’d tried once again to give her the money as a gift. “I promise not to leave the country.”

Harry chuckled. “Have you told Lizzie?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to say anything until I know for sure the procedure’s worked.”

“Understandable. But this is a stressful time and you’re not giving anyone the chance to support you. I thought you might have told Maggie, at least. She’s your closest friend.”

Guilt twinged her stomach. Although Maggie had shared a lot about her past, Jenny had been reluctant to reciprocate. Jenny told herself it was for sound reasons, but she knew she wasn’t being fair to her friend.

“Maggie and Jake have been trying to get pregnant for the past year. I’m not sure how to tell her what I’m doing.” She sighed. “I’m scared of upsetting her.”

“Maybe, but she’d be there for you regardless. Having another woman to share this with, especially someone who’s also trying to get pregnant, might be helpful to you both.”

“I’ll think about it.”

As Harry pulled into the CVS parking lot, Jenny’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller display, pursing her lips as she declined the call.

“Damn lawyer won’t take no for an answer.”

“I thought you’d already told Connor Smith you wanted nothing to do with your uncle’s will.” Harry parked in an empty slot and turned off the ignition. “Why is he still hassling you?”

“He wants me to sign some documents to say I accept that the proceeds of his estate will go to charity and won’t make a future claim against the estate. I told him to mail the papers, but he’s insisting I go to his office.”

“Do you want me to set Barrett on him?”

Much as she’d love Harry’s high-priced barracuda to deal with the slippery lawyer, she didn’t want the fuss. “Not yet, but thanks.”

“Well, holler if you need him.” Harry unclipped his seat belt. “Now, have you got that list the IVF nurse gave you? I want to make sure I get the right prenatal vitamins, since the ones your doctor prescribed made you so sick.”

“I can get them.” She smiled. “I’m supposed to behave normally. Walking around a drugstore won’t do any harm.”

“But I can be in and out in ten minutes.” Harry’s jaw set. “Besides, I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about the procedure yet. Won’t people be curious if they see you looking at pregnancy vitamins?”

Harry had a point. She could avoid unnecessary gossip if he fetched the vitamins for her.

“We’ll go in together. You can get these.” She handed him the nurse’s note. “While I get some other things I need, like cotton balls and nail polish remover.”

“Okay. But the sooner you’re home with your feet up, the better I’ll feel.”

She patted his arm. “This is really all about your delicate feelings, isn’t it?”

Harry laughed. “Isn’t it always about me?”

The long line at the prescription counter made the drugstore more crowded than usual. As they walked past the small, seated waiting area, she heard someone calling her.

“Coo-ee, Jenny!”

Tru’s mother, Karina, waved her over.

Harry squeezed Jenny’s arm, then wandered off toward the vitamins aisle. He’d probably rub it in all the way home that they’d bumped into one of the last people Jenny would want to discuss a potential pregnancy with. Not because she didn’t like Karina—she was very fond of her—but because of the woman’s son.

Jenny glanced over at the counter. Her heart gave a little jolt as she saw Tru chatting with the pharmacist.

Why did he have to look so good? A faded red Ice Cats T-shirt stretched across Tru’s broad chest, showing off his toned arms and flat stomach. Blue jeans, worn almost white in parts—all the right parts—molded to his powerful legs and his fine backside. Her pulse fluttered; she’d always been one for great legs.

Stop! She dragged her gaze away, giving herself a stern talking-to. What was wrong with her? The fertility hormones had to be messing with her brain.

“Hi, Karina.” She hugged the older woman. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. I had to get my blood pressure medicine refilled. One of the good things about my boys not being in the play-offs is they can help me run errands.” She winked.

Before Jenny could respond, Tru joined them.

“Jenny.” He nodded coolly.

“Tru.” Her acknowledgment was equally cool.

“Ma, your prescription will be ready in a few minutes. Mr. Jordan says you need to remember to take the tablets every day, otherwise they won’t do you much good.”

Karina waved a hand dismissively. “I’m only taking the medicine to keep Dr. Harris happy. I’m as fit as a violin.”

His mouth quirked at the corner. “Fit as a fiddle, Ma.”

“Fiddle, violin. It’s the same, no?”

“Close enough.” He shared an amused look with Jenny.

Though Karina had been in America for most of her adult life, she still mixed up phrases. Back when he was a teenager, Tru’d been embarrassed by his mother’s mistakes. But Jenny, who had missed her own mother terribly, had helped him see that it was cool to have a mother who was different.

The warmth of the shared memory made her pulse flutter again.

“Karina Jelinek,” the pharmacy assistant called out.

“I’ll get it, Ma. Be right back.” Tru strode back to the counter.

Jenny felt strangely disappointed at the interruption.

Then she saw Harry walking toward her, holding a white plastic bag. Perfect timing.

“Good to see you, Karina,” Jenny said.

“You should come by the house sometime. I’ll make those apple bars you used to love.”

“Yum. I’ll visit soon.” She turned toward Harry.

He was a few feet away, when he stopped suddenly. He looked confused. Then his right arm dropped limply by his side and the bag slipped from his fingers to the floor.

Jenny walked over and picked up the bag. “Harry, are you okay?”

He looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Worried, Jenny touched his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Again he tried to speak, but didn’t seem able to. His face was gray, his skin clammy.

“Is he having a heart attack?” Karina asked, behind her.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look in pain.” She pulled her boss over to the waiting area. “Sit down, Harry. You’ll be fine in a minute.”

He let her seat him, but looked at her as if he couldn’t understand what she was saying.

Panicking now, she called across to the counter. “We need help here.”

Tru’s head whipped round. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong with Harry.”

Everyone stood, staring. They seemed frozen in place.

Except for Tru.

He rushed over and crouched in front of Harry, studying him. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Harry tried to speak again. This time his words came out garbled. Then he grabbed his head and moaned. As if in slow motion, the right side of his face began to droop.

Her gaze met Tru’s. She saw in the green depths that he’d come to the same terrifying conclusion as she had.

Panic clutched at her chest. “He’s having a stroke.”

“Call 911,” Tru ordered. “We need an ambulance. Now.”

Before she could move to get her phone, Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the ground.

* * *

“BUT YOU HAVE to let me go with him.”

Jenny’s frantic words and stricken expression, as she watched the stretcher with her unconscious boss being loaded into the ambulance, tugged at Tru’s heart. She was normally so calm and in control, it was a shock to see her floundering.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re prohibited from taking anyone in the ambulance.” The paramedic’s tone was sympathetic, but firm, as he closed the rear doors.

“Not even family?” She was clearly too upset to realize that arguing would only delay the ambulance.

“Jenny.” Tru touched her arm.

She whirled to face him, her body language angry and defensive. “What?”

His breath caught in his throat at the anguish in her blue eyes.

“Let them do their job.” He drew her away from the ambulance. “The sooner they get Harry to the hospital, the better.”

She glared at him for a few seconds, but gradually the frustration drained from her expression, leaving her pale and drawn. “He needs me there, with him.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “He shouldn’t be alone.”

The ambulance driver started the engine. Jenny flinched, then stepped forward, as if to stop the vehicle from leaving.

Tru put an arm around her shoulders. He tried not to notice that for a moment she leaned into him. “I’ll take you to the hospital. If we go now, we can follow the ambulance.”

She stiffened and pulled away. “I can manage.”

“I know you can. But you don’t need to. You’re worried about Harry. Let someone who...” He caught himself before he said cares. “Let me help.”

“I don’t want your help. I don’t need it.”

He ignored the sting of her words. “Really? You’re being stubborn about that now?”

Color filled her cheeks, but she crossed her arms. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re too upset to drive. I’ll get you to the hospital quickly and in one piece.”

“You can’t. You have stuff to do.” Her protest would have been more effective if he hadn’t seen her hands tremble.

“The hospital’s on our way.”

“But what about Karina?”

“She...”

“Insists on taking you to the hospital.” His mom waggled a finger at Jenny. “You need friends with you.”

Jenny’s gaze flicked uncertainly between them. As the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot, she said, “Okay. Thanks.”

They got into his Range Rover; his mom in the back and Jenny alongside him up front. Then Tru pulled out, keeping the ambulance in sight as he drove through town toward the hospital. He forced himself to appear calm, while inside he hoped desperately that Sturridge would be all right. Jenny’d had enough bad news in her life.

She sat bolt upright, her eyes fixed firmly on the white-and-blue vehicle ahead. He wanted to touch her, reassure her, but she’d erected an invisible barrier around herself that he doubted he could breach.

Still, he had to try. “It’s a good sign they aren’t using the lights and siren.”

Jenny didn’t respond. Not even a muscle twitch.

His mom met his worried gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Does Harry have family, Jenny?” she asked.

“A daughter and a son.” Jenny started, as if waking from a dream. “I should call them.”

She pulled her cell from her purse. “Felicia is probably shopping or at a salon and Irving won’t be out of bed yet.”

“You could wait until we get to the hospital,” Tru suggested. “You’ll be able to give them a better idea of his status then.”

“Believe me, I’d like to delay, but I should let them know he’s been taken to the hospital. Just in case something ha-happens.” Her voice broke on the final word.

“Nothing will happen.” Tru regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He couldn’t guarantee that and he didn’t need Jenny to blame him for anything else.

He tried to backtrack. “We got help to him fast and he’s in the best hands.”

“In their shoes, I’d want to know as soon as possible.” She grimaced as she dialed. “I should just get it done. The worst they can do is yell.”

Neither of Sturridge’s children picked up. Jenny left a message, then dropped her phone onto her lap and turned her attention back to the vehicle ahead.

A few minutes later, the ambulance pulled into the hospital’s emergency vehicle area. Tru dropped Jenny and his mom at the main entrance, while he looked for somewhere to park. Luckily, he found a space quickly.

After jogging back to the main building, Tru found Jenny and his mom in the far corner of the crowded E.R. waiting room. Jenny was perched on the edge of a hard, plastic chair, her attention focused on the double doors leading into the treatment area. His mom sat to her right, pretending to read a tattered magazine.

“Any news?” he asked.

“None.” Despite her flat tone, the tremor in Jenny’s voice betrayed her emotions. “They’re running tests. They said it would be a while.”

“Okay. Well, you’d expect that with a suspected stroke.”

She nodded without taking her eyes off the doors.

Unsure what to say to ease her haunted expression, Tru sat beside her.

“You don’t have to wait,” she said stiffly. “I’ve already taken up enough of your time.”

“I won’t leave you here alone.” He braced himself for her protest, but it never came. Instead, she nodded again and kept staring straight ahead.

The E.R. doors swished open.

Jenny jerked at the sound, her gaze flying expectantly to the nurse who’d appeared. When her name wasn’t called, Jenny’s shoulders drooped and she slumped back in her chair. After a few minutes, she pulled herself rigidly upright and the vigil began again.

The cycle of anticipation and disappointment was repeated many times over the next hour. Each time, Jenny’s face grew paler and her body took a few moments longer to recover.

Each time, his chest squeezed a little tighter.

Tru hated feeling useless. At least on that terrible night years ago—when she’d finally admitted she was being abused—he’d been able to hold her, so the warmth and strength in his touch would comfort her.

Now all he could do was watch with her, and wait.

The depth of her emotional reaction made him wonder what the deal was with Harry. Jenny had worked for him since she was eighteen, but she acted as if they were really close. Like family. Like a lover?

Was Jenny sleeping with her boss?

Jenny’s personal life is none of your damn business. Hadn’t been for years. Yet the thought of her sleeping with the older man made Tru’s stomach turn.

“Jenny Martin?” A nurse’s voice cut into his thoughts.

Jenny jolted. She leaped up and rushed over to the woman in green scrubs waiting by the E.R. doors.

Tru rose to follow her then hesitated. Jenny wouldn’t want him with her.

“Go.” His mom nudged him. “She shouldn’t hear the news alone.”

Jenny didn’t acknowledge his presence when he joined her.

“Let’s go over here.” The nurse led them to some chairs at one side of the waiting room.

“How is Harry doing?” Jenny asked anxiously.

“His vital signs are strong, but he hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

“Do you know why?”

“They’re still doing tests and it may be some time before they have an answer,” she said. “We’d like to admit Mr. Sturridge for observation. Could you help with the paperwork?”

“Of course.”

At that moment, a too-thin redhead in a figure-hugging green dress and matching spiked heels rushed into the waiting room. Tru recognized the type—rich, spoiled, nervous wreck.

She spotted Jenny and hurried across the room. Her expensive perfume preceded her; its cloying spiciness didn’t mix comfortably with the antiseptic smell. “Harry Sturridge. Where’s my father? What’s happening?” she wailed.

Before the nurse could answer, a man sauntered through the entrance and came over to join them. His deliberately rumpled linen suit and just-rolled-out-of-bed hairstyle marked him as the nervous wreck’s brother.

His sister collapsed into his arms with a loud sob. “I’m so glad you’re here, Irving. I don’t know what to do. Poor Daddy.”

“Who’s in charge around here?” he demanded, as he patted his sister on the back. “I want the best specialist looking after my father. Isn’t Dominic Watson on staff here? Tell him I want him to be personally responsible for my father’s care.”

“Your father is already receiving the best care,” the nurse replied briskly.

“Good. We can afford whatever’s necessary, starting with your best private room.”

“Oh, yes. Daddy must be settled as quickly as possible.” Felicia nodded.

Tru pitied Jenny’s boss. Hell, if these two were his kids, he’d have had a stroke just to get away from them.

The nurse patiently went through Harry’s status again. “Perhaps, as you’re next of kin, you’d prefer to handle the paperwork for his admission.”

Felicia fluttered her hands, looking panicked. “I couldn’t.”

“Good God, no. That’s what she’s here for.” Irving arched an eyebrow at Jenny. “That is what a personal assistant is supposed to do, isn’t it?”

Irritation spiked at the crude insinuation, despite Tru’s own questions about Jenny’s relationship with her boss only minutes earlier. He waited for Jenny to lambaste the man. She’d cut some of the biggest stars in the National Hockey League off at the knees for less, slicing through their egos like a sushi chef with fresh tuna.

But Jenny said nothing. She stood there, staring at Irving. The white knuckles of her clenched fists, hanging by her sides, were the only sign she was bothered by Irving’s gibe.

What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she letting him walk all over her?

“Your father would be in the morgue, if it wasn’t for Jenny’s fast action,” Tru snapped.

Sturridge’s daughter gasped.

Irving cast his gaze lazily over Tru. “Don’t tell me you brought one of your hockey hulks with you, Jenny?” His lip curled. “Can’t you do without them for one afternoon?”

Jenny’s hand whipped out and grabbed Tru’s arm as he curled his fingers into a fist. With surprising strength, she prevented him from smashing the arrogant ass’s nose.

For the first time since her boss had collapsed in the drugstore, she morphed into the haughty ice queen he was used to. “Show the hospital and your father some respect.”

The younger man flushed. “You little tramp. I’ll show you...”

The nurse cleared her throat. “Mr. Sturridge, please lower your voice. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll ask security to escort you from the premises.”

Before Irving could respond, his sister stopped him. “Daddy wouldn’t like it.” She turned to the nurse. “When can we see our father?”

“You’ll have to wait until we’ve completed our tests and he’s in his room.” The nurse kept her tone professional. “Take a seat and I’ll come for you when we’re ready.” She smiled at Jenny. “Ms. Martin, if you’d follow me.”

“Why does she get to go with you?” Felicia whined.

“You wanted me to handle the forms,” Jenny said stiffly. “If you’d rather...”

“Oh...no.” Felicia shook her head quickly.

“Just get it done.” Irving stalked over to an empty seat, followed by his sister.

Jenny turned to Tru. Her expression softened fractionally. “I appreciate your help, but you don’t need to hang around. This may take a while. I can get a cab home.”

“No way.” His tone brooked no argument. “I’ll wait and give you a ride.”

This time, her hesitation was brief. “Okay. Thanks. Hopefully, I won’t be too long.”

Her half smile hit him square in the chest. His next breath hurt, as though he’d bruised a rib. Damn. Some things never changed.

As Jenny followed the nurse through the E.R. doors, Tru returned to his mom and told her the score. “I can take you home, then come back for Jenny.”

“Don’t be silly. I want to wait for Jenny, to see if everything’s all right.” She frowned at him. “Are you feeling okay?”

Tru realized he was rubbing the center of his chest. “I’m fine. A little hungry,” he lied.

“I’ll make you something to eat when we get home. I have stew in a pot, waiting to be fired up.”

“Heated up, Ma.” He grinned.

“Heated, fired. It’s the same, no?” She shrugged. “Still tastes good.”

“Sure. Sounds great.”

The E.R. staff still hadn’t called Harry’s children through by the time Jenny returned, an hour later. A fact that Irving had complained about loudly every fifteen minutes.

Jenny spoke briefly to the pair, then joined Tru and his mom. Her mouth was set in a grim line as they walked out to the parking lot, and there were shadows under her blue eyes. Despite her stiff spine, an air of vulnerability surrounded her, making her seem fragile.

“Thank you for waiting,” she said wearily, as Tru drove out of the parking lot. “I’m sorry that took longer than expected. They let me see Harry for a few moments while they got him settled in his room.”

“No problem.” Tru pulled out onto the main road. “How’s he doing?”

“No change.” She sighed. “They don’t know why he hasn’t woken up, but everything seems to be working okay and the scans don’t show any major damage.”

“The body heals in its own time. Give it a few days and see how things look then.” He added lightly, “He’s probably playing possum to avoid his kids.”

“That would be just like him.” Jenny managed a half smile. “In the meantime, I’ll have to deal with Felicia and Irving. She’s always more needy and demanding when Harry’s not around. Irving hangs around the office, sticking his nose into everything and generally being a pain in the ass.”

“If you need help handling them, I can round up a posse of Ice Cats.”

“I may take you up on that.”

The rest of the drive wasn’t as tense as the trip to the hospital had been. Still, as they got closer to Jenny’s house, he sensed that barrier rebuilding around her.

By the time he pulled into her drive, Jenny was back to her normal, distant self.

“Would you like to come in for a coffee?” Her polite invitation was wooden.

“I should get Mom home.”

His mom frowned at his abrupt tone. “Will you be okay, Jenny?”

“Sure. Thanks again for your help today.”

“No need for thanks. That’s what friends do, look after each other.”

“Still, I appreciate it, Karina.” Jenny shot Tru a look with a message that needed no translation. He wasn’t her friend and she didn’t need or want his help.

“Don’t forget your shopping.” His mom held out a white plastic bag.

“Oh...yes...thanks,” Jenny stuttered and flushed.

Tru was relieved to pull back out of Jenny’s driveway and head home.

He hadn’t gone far when he noticed his mom’s pensive expression. “What’s up, Ma?”

“Nothing really.”

“Come on, something’s clearly on your mind.”

“I just wondered why Jenny would need pregnancy vitamins.”

* * *

“TRUMAN JELINEK CALLED again to find out how Mr. Sturridge was doing.”

Jenny tried to hide her surprise from the nurse. “How thoughtful.”

“He seems like a nice guy. You’d never guess he played hockey. Anyway, I told him there had been no change.”

“Thanks.” Jenny smiled then headed to Harry’s room.

She was relieved when the nurse turned back to her charts, instead of accompanying her. The last thing Jenny needed was a discussion about how nice Tru was.

Jenny hadn’t seen Tru in the ten days since Harry’s stroke. She felt guilty that she hadn’t made an effort to thank Tru properly for what he’d done. She couldn’t have got through those horrible hours without his help. His calm presence and steady support had been crucial. The doctors had been clear, too, that Tru’s fast action had meant Harry had minimal brain damage, improving his chances of recovery.

She owed Tru a huge debt of gratitude. How she repaid him was another matter, especially without seeing or speaking to him. Perhaps Hallmark had a suitable card.

Jenny rolled her eyes. Stress had clearly taken its toll on her sanity.

Aware that time alone with Harry was limited—his children visited every day—she slid her chair closer to his bed. He looked surprisingly well, as if he was asleep. His color was bright, with none of the pallor she saw in other bedridden patients. She almost expected him to open his eyes and demand to know when his next appointment was.

If only he would. The longer this went on, the more Jenny worried he would never regain consciousness. She couldn’t bear the thought.

“Come on, Harry,” she pleaded softly. “Enough’s enough. Time to wake up.”

Was that a hitch in his breathing?

Jenny’s gaze flew to the monitors at the head of his bed.

Nothing. Not even a tiny blip.

She looked back at his barrel chest, covered in a blue hospital gown. The steady rise and fall continued unabated. Must have been her imagination.

More like wishful thinking.

“If you don’t stop playing possum, I’ll start taking advantage. Do you really want me to play online bingo on your dime?”

Her mock threat didn’t have the desired effect. She hadn’t expected it to. Still... A shiver went through her as she wondered what would happen to her if he didn’t recover.

Don’t borrow trouble. She could count on Harry. Unlike other men in her life, he’d never let her down.

In a few days, she’d take her pregnancy test. He had to be awake for that—whichever way the result went.

Looking at her flat belly, Jenny wondered for the millionth time whether the embryo was still in her womb. She kept waiting to feel different. Not that she knew what it felt like to be pregnant, but figured she should feel something. Feeling nothing couldn’t be a good sign.

She swallowed hard and took Harry’s hand. “You can play hooky today, but tomorrow I expect to see you awake and giving the nurses a hard time.” Her voice cracked.

Clearing her throat, she pulled a newspaper and some magazines out of her bag. “So, to update you on last night’s second round play-off games, Buffalo topped Detroit in Game 3, 4–2. The Wings still lead the series, though. St. Louis took Minnesota to overtime, then beat them 4–3. That puts them up by a game over the Wild.”

Jenny read Harry the game reports, then told him the rest of the sports scores. When a twelfth inning Yankees win over the Red Sox didn’t elicit a response, she knew he wouldn’t be waking up today.

She sighed and moved on to a supermarket scandal sheet. “Now, your favorite, the latest celebrity gossip.”

Jenny had barely finished reading him the first article when a nurse warned that Harry’s children were on their way.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Dana. I’ll come back later.”

Jenny had avoided Felicia and Irving on her visits, thanks to the help of the nursing staff. She hadn’t been so lucky at work. Irving had become an almost permanent fixture, spending endless hours in Harry’s office. At least he pretty much ignored Jenny. Meanwhile, Felicia was so nervous about making even the smallest decisions for her father that she checked endlessly with Jenny about everything from which flowers to order for the house to which engagements to cancel.

Jenny stuffed the magazines into her bag and rose. “I’ll drop by this evening.”

She smoothed his covers then leaned over to stroke his hair. Lingering for a moment, she murmured, “Hurry up and get well. I have a feeling I’m going to need you.”

“For God’s sake. Why don’t you climb into bed with him?”

Anger shot through her; Irving’s crude comment scraped an already raw spot.

She deliberately took her time straightening, knowing it would infuriate Harry’s son. When she finally turned to face Irving, his lips were pinched with irritation. Felicia hovered in the background, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

“This is a hospital. There are rules about that.” Jenny flicked her hair over her shoulder. “You might get turned on by a public sexual display, but I prefer privacy.”

“You should watch how you speak to your boss.”

“I don’t work for you.”

“Actually, you do.” Triumph lit Irving’s eyes. “Felicia and I have been appointed as Father’s legal guardians and we’ve been granted power of attorney.”

Felicia nodded quickly. “It was approved this morning. Irving will manage the business while I take care of the personal side of things.”

A chill went through Jenny. So that’s what Irving had been up to.

She tried to sound calm even as she tamped down the panic rushing through her. “I thought the doctors said there was nothing to indicate Harry’s coma would be permanent.”

“They did,” Irving drawled. “But as there’s so much money at stake, I thought it better to make my temporary stewardship of the business more official.”

Talk about putting the fox in charge of the henhouse. “I see. I guess you’ll want to set up a time to go through your requirements with me.”

“That won’t be necessary. I don’t need your services.” Irving smiled smugly. “You’re fired. Effective immediately.”

Jenny gasped. “You can’t do that.”

“Actually, I can and I have the court documents to back me up. Clear any personal possessions out of the office by the end of the week.”

What would she do? How would she support Lizzie? “What about notice and the salary I’m owed?”

Irving’s smile turned feral as he drew an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to her. “According to this contract, you’re entitled to two weeks’ salary or payment in lieu. The money will be in your account by close of day tomorrow.”

This couldn’t be happening.

Jenny opened the envelope, took out the papers inside and flipped through them. Her stomach dropped when she saw the terms. “This contract is out-of-date. That’s not my current salary. It hasn’t been for years.”

Irving shrugged. “That’s what we’re obliged to pay, unless you have written proof otherwise.”

She cast her mind back, desperately trying to recall any formal letters about pay. “There must be something in my file about my raises.”

“That’s all there was,” Felicia said apologetically. “I made them double-check because I was surprised Daddy hadn’t updated your contract over the years.”

“And you seemed so important to him.” Irving shot his cuffs. “He may have given you all his attention, but he gave us what really mattered.”

Light-headed with the news, Jenny couldn’t react to the snide envy in Irving’s tone.

He continued, “Unless you can produce documents proving something different, we’ll fulfill the letter of your contract.”

She fought to keep her expression neutral, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing how badly his news had shaken her. If there was ever a time for Harry to open his eyes and rescue her, it was now. She didn’t need to check the monitors to know her wish hadn’t been granted.

What would she do? She had to find a way to get through this nightmare until Harry woke up and fixed this mess. One thing was sure, she couldn’t stay here.

Jenny moved toward the door.

“One more thing.”

She stopped and turned. Her heart lurched as Irving pulled a familiar, crumpled cocktail napkin out of his pocket. A terrible roaring filled her head. She grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself.

“It seems you owe our father a substantial sum of money. Expect a letter from our lawyers.”

“Not right away, of course.” Felicia’s smile was overly bright, her tone eager to please.

Irving shot his sister an irritated look. “But we will call in the debt.”

Unable to force a word past her tight throat, Jenny walked out of the hospital room, holding her chin high. She managed to hold herself together, until she reached the parking garage and sank into her red Audi TT. Lowering her head to the steering wheel, she swore.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have left herself so vulnerable?

Surviving without her paycheck would be tough enough. No way could she afford to pay back that IOU. Three-quarters of the money had already gone to the IVF clinic, with the rest due any day. There was just enough left of her savings to scrape together the payment due soon for Lizzie’s tuition and board. Otherwise, she was flat broke.

Jenny drove home in a daze; half her brain on the traffic, half on what she could do to make ends meet. Get another job. Sell her car. Sell stuff on eBay. Rob a bank.

As she pulled into her driveway and parked, she was no closer to a solution. Though, obviously, robbing a bank wasn’t a viable option. She didn’t have a gun or a stocking mask.

Getting out of her car, Jenny felt a slight tug in her womb.

She froze.

The tug came again. Her breath caught. Please no. Not this, too.

Her body trembled as she waited anxiously to see if it happened again. After a few minutes, she released her breath in a hiccuping sob.

Must have been a false alarm. A warning that she couldn’t take any more stress.

The phone was ringing as Jenny walked into the house. She was tempted to ignore it, but changed her mind when she saw who was calling.

She’d barely said hello before Lizzie demanded to know what was wrong. “Is it Harry? Is he worse?”

Jenny closed her eyes for a moment and tried to sound normal. “No. He’s the same.” She explained about Felicia and Irving being appointed Harry’s guardians. “But I’ve been fired.”

“How dare they? You’re Harry’s girl Friday.”

“I should’ve seen this coming when Irving brought his secretary with him.” Lizzie’s fury on her behalf soothed Jenny’s battered soul, but it didn’t solve her problems. “I can get another job, but not one that’ll pay even half what I earn now. I’m hardly well-qualified, with only a GED. I shouldn’t think Irving will give me references, either.”

“There has to be something you can do. It’s an unfair dismissal. Talk to Maggie or her sister—they must know a lawyer you can talk to.”

“I can’t afford a lawyer.” Jenny bit her lip. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. Besides, once Harry gets better, this will all be fixed.”

Assuming he got better. She couldn’t bear to think about the alternative.

“Why don’t you do something hockey-related? Maybe something in the media. You have incredible knowledge of the sport and you’re familiar with the teams and rinks. Players, coaching staff and commentators already respect your insights. I’m sure readers would, too.”

Lizzie’s words made Jenny pause and consider. People in the game did feel comfortable around her. She was often asked advice about shots or plays or her opinion of the opposition.

A tiny bubble of excitement bounced in her stomach. “That’s a good idea. I know the sports editor at The Journal. Maybe he could find a slot for me. Though, technically, there’s only a few weeks left in the season.”

“There’s still all the stuff over the summer—the draft, free agency. It’s worth a shot.”

By the time Jenny hung up, she felt a little less panicked. She had a few options she could pursue. She sank onto the couch and leaned her head back against a cushion as she made a mental list of who she could approach.

She’d got half a dozen names on the list when the tug in her lower belly returned.

This time, it didn’t stop, but turned sharp and stabbing, like a period cramp.

Even though she’d given up believing in God years ago, she sent a quick plea heavenward. Don’t let me lose the baby.

Jenny sat motionless on the couch, delaying. She knew what she had to do, but once she did that, all hope would be gone. Sure, she’d have to wait a few more days to take the pregnancy test to confirm it, but the evidence would be there.

As the seconds passed, the pain got worse until she was clutching her belly. Finally, she could bear it no more. She forced herself to go upstairs. Her heart thudded heavily with each step. Once in the bathroom, tears spilled down her cheeks.

Jenny didn’t need to see the blood to know the IVF had failed.

CHAPTER THREE

THE LETTER HAD looked like a harmless piece of fan mail.

Tru’s hand shook slightly as he smoothed the scrunched sheet of paper. There had been nothing special about the handwriting. Even the Boston return address had seemed innocent.

As innocent as a puck bouncing up your stick and into your face, at ninety miles an hour, and just as damn painful.

He tossed the letter onto his kitchen table and paced the room.

Why now?

As if Tru didn’t have enough uncertainty in his life. Trade rumors had exploded with the announcement of the new general manager. Callum Hardshaw was a known rebuilder, with a reputation for clearing out deadwood fast. According to most sites and blogs, Tru was at the top of that pile of logs. Not the news he’d wanted or needed, with the Draft only weeks away, followed by free agency.

Now this letter.

After so many years of silence, what had prompted his father to write, asking to meet? And why to Tru? Ike was the eldest, it would have made more sense to reach out to him.

Tru halted, staring down at the lined, white paper as if it could answer his questions. But it offered no more explanation than the few lines he’d read a hundred times.

“Did you think I’d be a softer touch?” His voice echoed in the empty apartment.

An all-too-familiar guilt tightened his shoulders. He’d had to bear the pain of keeping quiet about his father’s infidelity, then the anguish of knowing the action he’d taken had blown his family apart.

His gaze lifted to the family snapshot on the refrigerator. His mother looked tiny, almost fragile, next to her broad-shouldered, towering sons. But Tru knew the strength behind the delicate appearance. The determination that had kept her going when her husband had walked out, leaving her with four young boys; one still an infant. The stubbornness that had enabled her to keep her family together no matter how hard things got.

A second photo showed his mother laughing with Jake’s mom. How would things have turned out if Tina and Gio Badoletti hadn’t stepped in to help?

The doorbell rang, followed almost immediately by several loud knocks.

The cavalry. Sort of.

Jake pushed past Tru as soon as he opened the door. His blue eyes scanned the apartment. “What’s up?”

Now his friend was here, Tru wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing by calling him earlier. He’d needed to share this with someone. As close as one of his brothers—they’d grown up together—Jake knew all about what had happened between his parents.

Well, not all.

“Thanks for coming, bro,” he hedged, leading the way back to the kitchen. “Can I get you a coffee? Beer?”

“You said it was urgent.” Jake shot him a disbelieving look. “I broke the speed limit getting here and you’re playing freaking hostess?”

“You speeding is unusual, how?”

“Funny, Truman. Don’t give up your day job.”

Tru tried not to squirm under the all-star defenseman’s penetrating gaze. Normally, it wouldn’t have affected him, but with his emotions in turmoil, Tru’s nerves were raw.

He grabbed the letter and tossed it to his friend. “See for yourself.”

Jake groaned. “You called me over here to read some puck bunny’s fantasy?”

His friend’s words sent a dart of pain to Tru’s chest. An image of one particular puck bunny sprang to mind.

He hadn’t seen Jenny since her boss’s collapse. Tru figured she had to know he’d inquired after Sturridge several times, yet she hadn’t reached out to him. He shouldn’t be surprised or hurt; it would take more than keeping her company in the E.R. to regain her trust.

Worse, memories of the past had plagued him over the past ten days. Now, with this letter, he felt as if he was in some weird kind of hellish purgatory—the misdeeds of his life being held up before him so punishment could be exacted.

Hadn’t he already paid the price—over and over again?

“Is this serious?” Jake’s disbelief mirrored Tru’s initial reaction to the letter.

Tru tried to sound nonchalant. “Crazy, huh?”

“What’s your old man after? Does he need money?”

Jake’s assumption that Radek Jelinek had an ulterior motive stung, even though Tru had thought the same thing. “Why would he need money? He ran off with that Boston heiress.”

“Maybe she dumped him. Maybe he cheated on her, like he did your mom.”

“Which is why he wouldn’t approach us for money.”

“You don’t think it’s strange he wants to meet his rich hockey-star son?”

“Maybe he wants to reconnect with his kids.” The words escaped before Tru could stop them.

Jake shook his head sadly, his apologetic expression acknowledging the unspoken emotion roiling through Tru. “Why didn’t he get in touch before? He could’ve contacted you guys at any time over the past twenty-plus years. Why now?”

“Perhaps he’s sick and wants to see us all before it’s too late.” God, he sounded desperate. Pathetic.

“Possible.”

Tru slumped into a chair. “But you doubt it.”

“I think he’d have mentioned a terminal illness.”

“He might not have wanted to play the sympathy card.”

Jake sighed and sat next to him. “You’re giving your old man way too much credit.”

His friend was right. Perhaps Tru was eager to believe the best of his father because he’d always hoped he’d have a chance to put things right for his family one day. Because, since he’d opened the envelope, he’d wanted the letter to be that chance.

“He’s still my father,” Tru said softly. “He deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

“Does he? He didn’t care that much about you guys when he was around and until now he made no attempt to reach any of you for all these years. This sudden change of heart stinks. I’d be wary about his motives, bro.”

Tru hated to admit it, but Jake was right. He sighed with frustration. “My mind has been working overtime trying to figure out what to do.”

“That’s your problem. You shouldn’t think.”

Tru punched Jake in the arm. “Like your nickname’s Einstein.”

“Hey, I can use my brain.” Jake hit him back, harder.

Chairs scraped as the two men jumped up and squared off.

“We all saw what using your brain did. You almost lost Maggie with your stupid ideas.”

The mention of Jake’s wife brought a big goofy smile to his friend’s face. “I was smart enough to go after her and win her in the end.”

“With a little help from your friends.”

“I know.” Raising his hands in mock surrender, Jake sat back down. “You didn’t do so well with Melanie, though.”

“I tried.” Not hard enough. He should feel worse; couldn’t explain why he didn’t. “Probably for the best.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Jake made it sound like definitely.

Tru went to the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of soft drinks. Passing one to Jake, he popped the top on his and took a long swig, before grabbing a chair and straddling it.

The letter lay on the table between them. Demanding his attention. Demanding action.

They both stared at it. The silence lengthened.

“Are you going to tell your mom?” Jake asked finally.

Tru shook his head. “Not until I’ve checked my dad out. I don’t want her upset unnecessarily. If he turns out to be on the level, I’ll consider telling her then.”

“Ike may disagree with you.”

“Ike won’t know.”

Jake’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I’m not telling any of my brothers,” Tru said firmly. “Not yet anyway.”

“Why the hell not? You can’t keep them in the dark about this. It’s too important.”

“I have to be sure my dad isn’t screwing with us again. I won’t raise their hopes, only to have them shattered.” Tru thrust his fingers through his hair. “Kenny’s finally got his shot at making the Cats full-time and is working like crazy to be ready for training camp. Linc has to decide whether to stay in college or turn pro.”

“And Ike?”

He had no excuse for keeping his older brother in the dark. At least, not one he could admit. Tru had to be the one to get to the bottom of this; he owed his family that much. He’d been the one who’d made sure his mom had found out about his father’s infidelity. It was Tru’s fault their old man had left.

No damn way he’d let Radek Jelinek hurt them again.

“I’ll tell Ike, just not right now. Dad leaving hit Ike the hardest. I think because he’s the oldest, he felt responsible somehow.”

Tru hadn’t had the courage to tell his brother what he’d done; not then, and not since. “It shouldn’t take me long with the internet to research my father. Then I’ll bring them all up to speed.”

God, he hoped his old man really had changed and this was a genuine attempt to reach out and reconnect.

Concern filled Jake’s blue eyes. “Ike’ll be mad as hell if you blindside him.”

“He’ll understand, when I explain.”

Jake didn’t look convinced. His friend opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by a knock and the sound of the front door opening.

“Hey, bro,” Ike called out.

Tru swore. “Don’t say anything about this, okay?”

“Damn it, Tru.” Jake rubbed the back of his neck.

“Come on, man. I need you to go with me on this.”

Jake puffed out a frustrated breath. “I’m not happy about it, but I’ll keep quiet. For now.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Tru raised his voice. “We’re in the kitchen.”

He snatched up the letter, shoving it in his back pocket as his brother walked in.

“Glad I caught you both together,” Ike said. He slumped into a chair, his expression grim. “Saves having to say all this twice.”

Tru exchanged concerned looks with Jake. “What’s up?”

“There’ll be a conference call with all the Cats players tomorrow, but as union rep, I got a preview. I wanted to give you guys a heads-up on what’s going to be said.”

“Sounds ominous.” Jake leaned forward. “Don’t tell me the Scartelli brothers are moving us to Kansas City.”

Ike didn’t crack a smile at the old joke.

Tru’s stomach rolled with uneasiness. “They’ve just changed the GM, what else is...” He broke off. “Crap. They’ve fired Max.”

Ike nodded. “There are some critical decisions to be made over the next few months—who to pick at the draft, which contracts to renew, who to trade, who to keep—so Callum Hardshaw wants his own man in place ASAP.”

“Any word on who the new coach will be?”

“Not yet, but Hardshaw must have a name in mind. He may even have tapped someone already. I’m guessing it won’t be long before he announces Max’s replacement.”

Which made Tru’s position with the Cats even more precarious. He tried to look on the bright side. “There are a few coaches with good track records looking for jobs. Maybe Hardshaw will choose one of them. The Scartellis want to win, so a veteran coach would make sense.”

“Yeah. Not so sure about that.”

The way Ike avoided his gaze made Tru nervous. “Spill, bro. What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything for sure.” Ike sighed. “The phrasing Hardshaw used about the future of the team smacked of blowing everything up and starting afresh.”

Jake frowned. “We knew that was a possibility when he was hired. The guy’s known for making something out of nothing. Look at the job he did with Columbus. So, what’s put a bug up your ass?”

Ike’s gaze swung between Tru and Jake. “Hardshaw said the Scartelli brothers have promised him time to achieve success. They want the Cats to be another Pittsburgh.”

“You’re kidding. They want us to molder in the league basement for a few seasons in order to get high draft picks, in the hopes that we’ll become a serial Cup contender?” Tru swore. “That’s my career with the Ice Cats done. I’ll be gone this summer. I wish I’d hired an agent before I negotiated my last contract. I might have got a no-trade clause. Then they couldn’t just ship me out to the highest bidder.”

“Andy will get you a great deal.” Jake crushed his empty can.

“But it won’t be with the Ice Cats.” What a difference a few years made. From hero to zero. “The last time my contract was up, I was the team’s MVP. The Cats were terrified they’d have to shell out major money if they let me reach free agency.”

“I told you agreeing to your contract early was crazy.” Ike crossed his arms. “You’d have got way better terms from most other teams.”

“I was happy to take a hometown discount to stay with the team who drafted and developed me—and to keep playing with you. I was damn loyal to them. Where’s their loyalty to me?” Tru threw his arms up in disgust.

His brother shrugged. “There’s no loyalty in professional sports. Especially when you’re losing. They only care about the bottom line.”

“Ike’s right,” Jake said quietly.

“Doesn’t make it suck any less.”

Neither Jake nor Ike disagreed.

When they left a short while later, Tru threw himself onto his couch. His hockey-playing future was looking bleaker by the minute.

With his current run of luck, he’d end up without a team at all or worse, bussing it in the AHL. Damn it! He didn’t want to play in the freaking minors. He still had good legs and decent skills.

The room darkened as afternoon turned into evening, mirroring his darkening thoughts.

Maybe he’d have to resort to playing overseas in Europe or Russia. The money was great, but the other leagues weren’t as good as the NHL. Plus, he didn’t want to become one of those guys he’d always felt sorry for; a has-been, desperately clinging to a career everyone else knows is already over.

He’d rather walk away from the game than be a laughingstock.

Can the pity party.

Jeez. He was going to drive himself crazy if he didn’t get away from his own thoughts. He had to get out of the house. Go to the Plaza. Plenty of options at the mall to keep himself occupied for a few hours.

Tru leaped up, grabbed his keys and headed out to his car.

Dealing with the crazy drivers on Route 17 helped blow some of the self-pity from his head, so he was able to walk into the mall with a sense of purpose. He’d check out some stores, grab a bite to eat and maybe take in a movie.

He was in the sporting goods store, looking at athletic shoes, when his plans went awry. An unfamiliar male voice came over his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re Tru Jelinek.”

Tru tensed. He put down the shoes and, plastering on a polite smile, turned slowly to face the speaker.

A balding guy in an Ice Cats away sweater grinned at him and stuck out a meaty hand.

Tru shook his hand. “Good to meet you.”

“I’m Don. This is Dirk.” He pointed at his buddy, whose blue Islanders sweater strained over his beer belly.

“Thought you’d be on the golf course,” Dirk sneered.

Tru didn’t point out that the Islanders may have made the play-offs, but they’d been knocked out in the first round by Toronto. It wasn’t worth the aggravation. “Not really a golfer. I like more action to my sport.”

“Yeah.” Don shot a glare at his pal. “So, Tru, watcha think of the latest rumors about you being traded out west?”

* * *

THE SINGLE PINK line confirmed what Jenny had known since yesterday.

“Damn it.” Half-whispered words caught on a broken sob.

Jenny had allowed herself a few moments of hope as she’d waited for the pregnancy test, even though she’d known deep inside there was no way she’d get a positive result. The IVF nurse had said there was a tiny chance that Jenny could be pregnant, despite the bleeding, so she should take the test, to be sure.

Pain stabbed at Jenny’s heart. And in her womb. An aching tightness gripped her throat. The hollow feeling within her was real.

The test isn’t perfect. Maybe it’s wrong.

Logic drowned out her desperate inner voice. No mistake.

Tears welled as reality stamped out the spark of hope. There was no baby.

Her body had let her down; one more betrayal in her life. She should have known better than to expect anything else. How many more times did she have to be shown for the message to sink in? Good things only happened to good people. To people who deserved them.

Stop!

That was his thinking. Douglas Boult’s ranting had no power over her now. His ornate casket was six feet under in the Blessed Peace Cemetery. He couldn’t hurt her, or anyone else, ever again.

Still, Jenny couldn’t silence the lingering doubt. Had she done something wrong? Questions whirled in her head as she revisited the days since the embryo had been implanted, trying to analyze every action, every movement. Desperately seeking an answer while hoping not to find one.

Finally, she drew in a shuddering breath then rose slowly, her muscles aching with suppressed grief. She had to let the IVF nurse know the result.

Jenny dialed Sally’s number and the nurse answered her call after one ring.

Anguish rose, threatening to overwhelm Jenny. Her words were little more than a whimper. “I... It...”

“I’m sorry,” Sally’s sympathetic tone soothed.

Relief that she didn’t have to say the words eased some of the tension in Jenny’s body. “Was it my fault?”

“Of course not.” The nurse’s tone brooked no argument.

“But I...”

“Stop.” Sally’s voice softened. “We don’t know why you miscarried, but it wasn’t anything you did. Unless you went bull-riding or bungee-jumping.”

Even in her misery, Jenny’s lips twitched. “No.”

“No drinking, smoking, drugs or partying?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I’m afraid this is just one of those things.”

“What do I do now?” Jenny’s voice broke.

“Give yourself time to grieve. To heal. When you’re ready, we’ll talk options.”

There were no options.

Jenny cleared the lump from her throat. “I can’t afford any more attempts.”

“You’re still young. Things could change, giving you another opportunity. You could meet Mr. Right and try again.”

“There’s no such thing as Mr. Right.” Once, she’d thought Tru was Mr. Right. But he’d shown himself to be Mr. Totally Wrong.

“You don’t know that,” Sally chided.

Sadly, she did. But the nurse couldn’t understand, not without knowing the whole story. So she moved on and thanked Sally for her help.

For a long time after Jenny hung up, she sat cross-legged on her bed, hugging her pillow, thinking about the past and what she’d lost. Eventually, her mind shifted toward the present and how she would deal with the problems facing her.

One thing was for sure, Lizzie came first. Always. From the minute Jenny had turned eighteen and they’d left their uncle’s house, she’d tried to give Lizzie a good life. The sacrifices she’d made had been worth it; her sister was bright, well-adjusted and happy.

Jenny would do everything to ensure her sister stayed that way.

Which meant she couldn’t sit around here feeling sorry for herself. She had to make money. To do that she had to find a job. Maybe several jobs. As nervous as she was about putting herself out there, she had no choice.

Forcing herself to move before the anguish lingering within took over, Jenny rose stiffly and walked to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her unruly hair, grimacing at her too-pale reflection.

Back in the bedroom, she took off her sweatpants and T-shirt, replacing them with black jeans, a crisp striped blouse and her favorite spiked heel sandals. Like donning armor, the layers encased her vulnerable self within its protection, enabling her to face the world.

Jenny was applying lipstick when the phone rang. At first she didn’t answer. The wrong words, the wrong tone and her fragile control would shatter. When it rang a second time, she checked the caller ID.

Why was Maggie so keen to get hold of her?

Drawing on every ounce of reserve strength, Jenny answered.

“You sound odd.” Worry tinged her friend’s words. “Is everything all right?”

Jenny injected a bright note into her voice. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. What’s up?”

“I have good news. How would you like to be a godmother?”

“A what?” The lipstick dropped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers.

Maggie giggled. “A godmother.”

Her brain took several seconds to make the connection. “You...you’re pregnant?”

Pain seared through her.

“I’m due in November.” Maggie bubbled with excitement. “I can’t believe it. Jake and I have been trying for so long, I’d almost given up.”

As Maggie chatted away about ultrasounds and due dates, Jenny tried to pull herself together. To stop the wrenching in her stomach.

She was happy for Maggie. And she’d tell her...in a minute...when she had the strength. “Congratulations. Jake must be thrilled.”

“He says it’s like winning the Cup all over again.”

“With him scoring the winning goal.” Jenny’s laugh was watery, but genuine.

Each moment the call continued was agony, yet she couldn’t spoil her friend’s happiness by cutting her short. Jenny had no idea what she said, but somehow she managed to keep up her end of the conversation.

Just as she thought she couldn’t take a moment more, Maggie released her.

Jenny had barely hung up when her knees gave way and she slid to the floor.

Grief washed over her in waves. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to mute the sobs that escaped. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rocked back and forth.

But she couldn’t hold back anymore. Mewling cries, wrenched from deep within, echoed around the empty room.

Darkness had fallen by the time the storm inside Jenny began to calm. Her throat was hoarse, her lips parched, her eyes scratchy. Her muscles ached.

But her heart was numb, at last.

I have to get out of here.

Where could she go? She looked a mess. Hell, she was a mess. She needed a place where she could sit alone. She couldn’t face bumping into someone she knew.

Memories of an old stomping ground surfaced.

Jenny hadn’t been to the Exeter Diner in a long time. A hole-in-the-wall, with dim lighting, where the regulars kept to themselves. She’d escaped there as a teenager when she couldn’t handle being in Douglas’s house. Then later she’d hung out there with Tru.

How many times had she driven past over the years? She’d never stopped because the place held too many memories. Of Tru’s friendship turning to something more special. More precious. Of their first tentative kisses in those shadowed booths. Of whispered secrets and stolen moments.

Of that final night when he’d promised to keep her safe, then destroyed her safety. The night he’d wrecked their friendship and killed their blossoming love.

Yet, as much as she shied away from the memories the Exeter Diner evoked, she was drawn to its siren call. To its familiarity and to the peace she could find by sheltering in the cocoon of those high-sided bench seats.

What did she have to lose? Tru wouldn’t be there. Nor anyone else she knew.

Jenny got to her feet and hurried back into the bathroom. She washed her face again, then grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.

* * *

A COLD BEER, a rare burger with all the trimmings and not a hockey fan in sight.

Exactly what Tru needed. The tension that had tightened his shoulders since that damn encounter with Don and Dirk in the sporting goods store finally began to ease. He leaned back against the padded leather seat in the dark booth and took a long drink from the bottle the gum-snapping waitress had just served him.

He’d nearly forgotten about this diner, back in the old neighborhood; he hadn’t been here in years. When he’d stormed out of the Plaza, he hadn’t wanted to go home, but also hadn’t wanted to risk going anywhere fans would recognize him—that had ruled out most of the sports bars in the area. He’d considered going round to Jake’s, but his friend had taken Maggie out for dinner. And going to his mom’s had been out of the question—Tru wasn’t ready to face Ike or his mom, not with that letter burning a hole in his conscience.

Then he’d remembered this place. Quiet, great food and nobody would bother him.

“Jack. Rocks. Easy on the rocks.” The familiar husky voice almost made him choke.

Desire slid through his veins like flames licking at dry wood. Anger, frustration and guilt soon mingled with the desire, as they had since he was sixteen.

What the hell was Jenny doing here?

Just like old times, his mind whispered. Except Jenny wouldn’t be rushing toward him, her blue eyes bright with anticipation. She wouldn’t be sliding into the booth, into his arms, her lips raised for his kiss. There would be no entwined fingers as they shared a milk shake.

The diner had been “their place.” They’d found it one evening, after hockey practice, and had begun to hang out there regularly. When their friendship had turned to something more, it had become their private haven. He’d only realized how much of a sanctuary this had been for Jenny when he’d discovered the truth about her uncle.

The click-click of high heels on the wooden floor came closer. Tru shifted into the shadows of the high-sided booth as Jenny took a seat across the room.

“Why don’t I get you some food to go with that drink?” The waitress’s gentle question belied her hard, brassy look.

He couldn’t make out Jenny’s response.

When the older woman moved away, he got his first good look at Jenny’s face.

The change since he last saw her shocked him. Her pale skin was almost translucent. There were dark smudges under her eyes. What could be wrong?

It couldn’t be her boss; the nurse had told Tru there was no change when he’d last called.

For some reason, his mom’s comment about pregnancy vitamins, the day of Harry’s stroke, popped into Tru’s head. At the time, it had raised painful questions he hadn’t wanted to know the answer to, so he’d deliberately scrubbed it from his mind.

Could Jenny be pregnant? A knife twisted in his gut.

He watched her drain the bourbon and knew the answer was no. Jenny wouldn’t drink if she was carrying a baby.

“Here you go.” The waitress placed a plate topped with a burger, fries and onion rings in front of Jenny. “Eat up.”

“Thanks.” Jenny’s smile was wooden.

As soon as she was alone, the smile faded and her shoulders slumped.

Tru was partway out of his seat before he stopped himself. What are you thinking? Slowly, he sat down again.

Think you can help? His inner voice laughed, a mocking, pitying sound. Haven’t you helped her enough?

All he’d wanted was to save the girl he loved. Instead, he’d screwed up badly and made things worse. Dangerously worse.

No matter how many times he replayed the events, he couldn’t find any way he’d have figured out that the man Jenny had refused to name had been the pastor everyone had adored and trusted.

Eat and get out of here. Tru turned back to his burger, but his gaze kept straying across the room. Half of him wanted her to look up and spot him. The other half was scared she would.

He’d barely taken a bite of his burger when he caught a movement at the edge of his vision. Jenny’s fork clattered to the table. She pushed her plate away and cradled her head in her hands.

Before Tru could question his actions, he was standing by her side—with no idea what to say.

“You’re a long way from home.” Were those gruffly spoken words the best he could do?

Jenny’s back stiffened, but she didn’t look up.

Where was her usual snappy comeback? Her lack of reaction worried him. Whatever was wrong, was bad. He had to do something to spark a response. “Didn’t think this was your neighborhood anymore.”

She lifted her head, glaring at him. “Excuse me?”

“Look around. No hockey players.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. At least, no good hockey players.”

Ouch. Still, fire had finally flashed in her blue eyes.

He slid into the booth, opposite her.

“Go away, Truman. I’m eating.”

“Uh-huh. And what was that you were doing when I came over? Praying?” He winced inwardly. He’d wanted a reaction, not to hurt her.

“You, of all people, should know I don’t believe in God.”

“My point exactly.” He helped himself to a French fry.

“Hey, get your own fries.”

“You used to be better at sharing.” He plucked an onion ring from her plate and offered it to her. When she continued to glare, he shrugged and ate it himself.

Jenny stood, marched over to the waitress station and grabbed a bottle of ketchup. When she returned, she deliberately poured sauce over the fries and rings.

His heart kicked. She’d remembered he didn’t like ketchup. “Now, that’s just mean.”

He went to collect his own dinner and returned.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Do you always force your company upon women?”

“I never have to force anything. They flock to me.”

“Like lemmings to a cliff?”

He grinned. “Not bad.”

“I’m just warming up.” She ate some of her burger and sighed. “I’d forgotten how delicious the food was here.”

“Not been back for a while?”

She shook her head. “Not for a few years.”

What had brought her back tonight? “I’m surprised you’re not at the game in Pittsburgh.”

“I’ve retired.”

“What? When?”

“When the season ended. I’ve handed over the puck bunny crown to Candi-with-an-i.”

“You’ve done all the players in the league?” The question, tinged with disbelief, slipped out before he could stop it. Crap. So what if she’d never slept with him. He didn’t compete with other players for women, or take up with their leftovers.

The fire in her blue eyes was replaced with ice. “I may have missed a few, but then I don’t sleep with married men or guys in steady relationships. Or jerks.”

Time to change the subject. “Why are you here tonight?” he asked gently.

Jenny blanched. Her vulnerable look had him worried enough to press. “What are you hiding from?”

Silently, she pushed her food around on her plate.

“Come on, Jenny. You look dreadful.”

“This from a man with a couple of still-raw scars on his face.”

“You don’t need me to tell you you’re beautiful. You get enough compliments elsewhere. You need the truth.”

She flinched. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, ‘nothing’ obviously doesn’t agree with you.”

Jenny shrugged. A small, heartbreakingly defiant gesture he’d seen before. A long time ago. Before he’d convinced her she could trust him. Before he’d destroyed that trust.

“It’s not important,” she said flatly.

Irritation bubbled within at her dismissal. He should have known better than to come over here. There would never be anything but pain and rejection when it came to Jenny Martin. “I give up. Enjoy your dinner.” He stood. “Whatever’s wrong, it’s eating away at you. Even this dumb ice-jock can see that. Talk to someone. Talk to Maggie or Lizzie.”

Fear twisted his gut as tears filled her eyes and spilled over. Now he knew for sure something was wrong. Jenny never cried.

* * *

DAMN. DAMN. DAMN.

Damn fate’s irony for bringing her full circle at the most vulnerable point in her life. Back to the first man she’d ever loved, and trusted. Talk about adding insult to injury.

Her heart had jumped when he’d slipped into her booth. The concern in his green eyes and in his deep voice had warmed her.

Jenny swiped at the tears and tried to compose herself. It had been hard enough to control her feelings tonight, without having Tru so close. She couldn’t handle him right now. She was too raw. The pain of her loss ached, deep inside. Yet the urge to lean on him, to absorb his strength, whispered through her.

No! That’s how it had started last time. She was still paying the price of that mistake.

She should leave before the emotions coursing through her made her do something she’d regret. Jenny stood.

As she pushed past him, Tru’s hand caught her wrist. “Don’t go. I’ll leave you alone.”

Her pulse fluttered—fight or flight? She didn’t have the energy for either. She sank back into the booth. “All right.”

The sight of the cooling food—fat congealing, covered in red sauce—was too much for her roiling stomach. She pushed the plate away and reached for her drink. The burn of the bourbon as it slid down her throat was strangely comforting.

“Can I call someone for you?”

Using the sharp pain of her memories to bolster her strength, she stiffened her spine. “No, thanks. I’m just tired.”

“Bull.”

“Excuse me?” One eyebrow arched haughtily.

“You heard me.” He leaned over and planted his palms on the table. “This is more than being tired.” A tenacious look settled across his face. Glib answers wouldn’t cut it this time.

Yet she couldn’t share the truth with him. “If you must know, I lost my job.”

“I’m sorry.” Tru straightened and slid into the seat opposite her. “You’ll find another one. Maybe not with the same perks, but a decent job.”

Disappointment sliced through her. She knew what he meant by perks, but couldn’t be bothered to set him straight. “That’s not the problem.”

As she explained, she signaled the waitress for another Jack Daniel’s. The perfect anesthetic to numb the pain and chase away the misery.

It might even help her deal with Tru.

“The bastard.” He looked ready to deal Irving some old-style hockey justice.

She tamped down the pleasure that flared at his support. “It’s my own fault. I should’ve made sure my contract had been updated. I just assumed. Now it’s too late. At least until Harry wakes up.”

Her drink arrived and she took a large swallow. The second shot went down more smoothly, warming her tight throat. Jenny raised the glass to her lips again.

“What’s really going on?”

The bourbon went down the wrong way, making her splutter.

Tru was beside her in an instant. He swapped her Jack for a glass of water.

By the time she could breathe again, she realized Tru’s thigh was pressed against hers. His arm lay across her shoulders as he encouraged her to drink more water.

Heat flooded through her. She tried to edge away, but her bag took up the remaining space between her and the wall.

“Jenny?” The worry etched into his face was nearly her undoing.

“I’m fine.” She pulled her bag onto her lap then moved as far as the enclosed booth allowed. “Look, I appreciate the concern.” She hardened her voice. “But it’s none of your business.”

She reached for the glass of bourbon, drained it, then deliberately raised her hand for another. The waitress brought it almost immediately.

Tru’s intense gaze seemed to penetrate her defenses and see into her soul. “Whatever’s going on is tearing you apart.” He paused and sighed heavily. “I’ve never seen you cry.”

Because she’d never let him. Not even when she’d told him about the abuse.

She couldn’t bear the conversation another second. “I have to go.”

She swallowed the refreshed drink, but this one didn’t go down as smoothly. She swayed slightly as she stood. Damn. She should have eaten more of that burger.

Once again, Tru stopped her. But his touch only added to her light-headedness.

Great. Just what she needed. She shrugged off his hand. “If it’ll get you off my back, I promise to talk to someone.”

He didn’t need to know there wasn’t anyone she could tell.

Her head pounded. Waves of fatigue swirled around her. This time, she managed to push him away, but she didn’t get far.

“Come on.” He tossed some bills on the table then took her arm. “I’ll drive you home.”

The whiskey lay heavily in her stomach. “My car,” she muttered, as she walked unsteadily, each step taking serious effort and concentration.

“I’ll bring you by to pick it up tomorrow.”

She didn’t like leaning on him, but knew she couldn’t make it to the door without his support. “I’m not drunk. Too little food. Tired. Sick.”

“Will she be all right?” the concerned waitress asked, as they passed.

“I’ll take care of her.”

Jenny snorted. His kind of care she didn’t need.

Outside the diner, the cool air cut through some of the haze in her brain. Pain filled her. Pain from the past. Pain from the present. The image of that one pink line swam before her eyes. No baby. No chance of a baby. Her knees crumpled beneath her.

Tru caught her before she hit the wet pavement and lowered her gently to the ground.

Jenny welcomed the damp seeping through her clothes as she rested her cheek against the cool stone.

“You can’t stay here.” Tru’s sharp words made her frown.

Why was he being mean? “You’re not the boss of me.”

“No. I’m not.”

She nodded, pleased he’d agreed. The motion made her head swim. She moaned softly.

Tru swore, then swung her up into his arms.

Jenny thought about struggling, but it took all her energy to control her roiling stomach. Focusing on the hard chest beneath her cheek helped. She’d bet he was ripped beneath his shirt. She trailed a finger down the corded sinew of his neck. Mmm. Yes. Definitely ripped. Tight, flat abs, thighs like tree trunks, rock-hard biceps.

“Stop that.” Tru sounded strained as her finger slid beneath the open collar of his shirt. “If you don’t stop wriggling, I’ll drop you.”

Settling her head against his shoulder, she closed her increasingly heavy eyes. She barely registered him putting her into his car, or the drive home. As the car stopped, she tried to rouse herself. But her stomach began to churn dangerously. When Tru went to lift her into his arms, she shook her head. Acid rose in her throat. Not in front of Tru.

She pushed away from him. But it was too late. Jenny dropped to her knees beside a large bush and threw up.

CHAPTER FOUR

WAS JENNY AWAKE YET?

Tru wiped the sweat from his face with the bottom of his T-shirt and listened for any signs of movement upstairs. She’d been sleeping soundly when he’d checked on her earlier, before heading out for his morning run.

His heart thudded at the memory of her tousled hair spread across his pillow and the curve of one smooth shoulder visible above the sheets. She’d looked peaceful.

How many times had he dreamed of her in his bed? Only he’d imagined a different reason for her being there.

He listened a moment longer while he drained a glass of ice water. Not a sound. If she didn’t surface in another hour, he’d check on her again. Maybe even wake her. A picture popped into his head of him leaning over to press a kiss to her lips. His pulse hitched, even as he deliberately pushed the image aside.

She may be Sleeping Beauty, but for damn sure she didn’t see him as Prince Charming.

Besides, her strange behavior in the diner had really worried him. He had tossed and turned all night wondering about it. Something serious was wrong and he intended to find out what that was.

As Tru shoved his glass into the water dispenser in the refrigerator door, the phone rang.

Grateful for the distraction, he grabbed the receiver.

“Hey, bro.” Jake sounded happy. “What are you up to tomorrow night?”

Tru frowned. “Nothing much. Why?”

“The moms are throwing a party.”

Whose birthday had he forgotten? “What are we celebrating?”

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