On the Fly (Crimson Romance) (5 page)

Carter closed the door, breathed through his nose, and made a visible effort to relax his shoulders. While logic said he’d never physically hurt her, intimidation rolled off him. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Excuse me?” Her brows went up, and she took a step forward.

“There’s never been a woman coach for a reason. I’m not trying to be sexist — ”

“But you just can’t help it.”

He growled and tipped his head back. “I’m saying that you have a nice idea in theory, but it’s not going to work. Yeah, the guys like Nealy. We put up with her comments. Okay, she knows hockey. But you have no idea what this will do to the team. The guys will get so psyched out by all the chirping from other teams and fans that it’ll affect our play. We’re already a desert team. We don’t need any more challenges.” He glanced to his left then did a double take. “Is that a pinball machine?”

“Wha — ” Jacey followed his gaze. Pac Man? Had to be Madden. She shook her head to clear it. “Wait. You think the team will do poorly not because Nealy’s a bad coach but because other teams will say she is? And you guys will have no choice but to believe it?”

“I know how it sounds, but ninety percent of an athlete’s game is mental.”

“And logic doesn’t factor in?”

Carter slid his hands over his face. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand Nealy Windham is the head coach of the Sinners. I understand you are under contract to listen to her throughout the upcoming season. What am I missing?”

“The point.” Carter opened the door and pushed through it.

Jacey watched him go. When the elevator doors closed at the end of the hall and blocked out his fuming expression, she fell into her father’s leather chair, laid her head back, and closed her eyes. “I’m trying, Dad.”

But what if it wasn’t enough?

• • •

Monday, September 19th

Carter arrived at the arena early, taking the underground players’ entrance to the locker room. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking his head. How the hell had he’d gotten here, and why he wasn’t in Chicago? He laced up his skates, distracted until Reese slapped him on the shoulder.

“Dude. What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re shaking your head like you did something stupid and you still can’t believe it.” Reese, in all his goalie gear, managed to lower himself onto the bench.

“Not me. Our new boss.”

“Vaughn Junior? What did she — ”

“All right, gentlemen, let’s get the bitch fest over with.” Nealy pushed into the room in a Sinners’ jogging suit and hockey skates. The team broke out in laughter until she lifted a whistle to her lips and blew out twenty-four sets of eardrums.

She waited for everyone to take their hands away from their heads before launching her speech. “All right, that’s enough. I know you’re used to ignoring my sideline comments during practice, but I’ll be out there with you now, and it’ll be your job to listen. I know this sport. I’ve known it since before most of you were born, so don’t second-guess me. I want this team to succeed just like you. Anyone has a problem with that, anyone has a problem with me, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Stunned silence. Even the assistant coaches — Peabo especially — looked too shocked to even be angry.

“Fine. I’ll see you on the ice.” And off she stomped down the tunnel.

Whispers rose among the men. Reese leaned over and dipped his head, as though still afraid Nealy would hear. “What just happened?”

Carter pulled on his practice jersey then smoothed it over his pads. “I think we just got married to our new coach. For better or worse.”

It was worse. Nealy had him — the whole damn team — panting and hunched over after the first half hour. And they were world-class athletes. She drilled them until they dropped. Then she ordered them up and had them run systems, trying to find the most effective one for their varying talents. Or lack thereof, as she put it. Her new approach made her previous backseat coaching look tame. Carter dodged her as she skated amongst them, weaving in and out and chirping orders. He couldn’t stand it. Finley had been an ass, but nothing was worse than Nealy’s tiny voice hurling insults that made even the graybeards blush.

By the end of the practice, most of the men could barely stand. Reese remained in goal but ass-on-ice, legs splayed and head leaning against one of the posts. His chest pads moved in and out with his ragged breathing. Carter skated by, grabbed the green water bottle off the top of the goal netting, then swung around and squirted some through Reese’s mask. His friend sputtered and waved his blocker glove. “Go … away. Dead to me.”

Carter laughed, returned the bottle then skated toward the tunnel to the locker room. He couldn’t feel his legs, but he suspected he’d regret it when that changed. Nealy worked them harder than Finley ever had. How long could they last?

Saturday, September 24th

Jacey sat on her garage steps, lacing up her Rollerblades. The first month in Nevada had gone fast, and in-line stress relief called to her. Tough as it had been, the staff had begun to adjust to the new regime.

She did her best to adjust to working so closely with the brother she’d only seen in short visits the last several years. She hadn’t been his full-time sister/babysitter since she was eighteen, but they’d been close before she left for college. Madden could be a secretive pain in the ass, but he knew a lot about hockey, and he could turn on the charm and win over anyone — when he so wished. Which wasn’t often. As a personal assistant, he assisted when it suited him, but he’d been so good helping with management and staffing issues that she let it slide.

The end of September approached, and things had cooled down slightly, but it was still in the mid eighties when she skated out into the sun. It had been a while since she’d had the pleasure of gliding along, the wind in her hair, and a familiar, enjoyable strain in the muscles of her legs. She coasted down the horseshoe driveway and headed for the trail. It was a paved, two-lane pathway that wound through Diamond Cove with markers that let her know it was two miles each way.

Desert palms lined the path, providing beauty but little shade, and she longed for the leafy oaks and maples of Ohio. Moving side to side, pushing with ease, Jacey sped along, dodging the occasional pedestrian and trying to leave room for the people on bikes. Ear buds in place and playlist jamming away her nerves, she was oblivious to crying babies, barking dogs, and panting, middle-aged men jogging as if their lives depended on it — and they probably did.

Jacey slowed her pace as she came up on a mouth-watering figure. He ran almost fast enough to keep up with her. Almost. Broad shoulders, bare back, and a firm behind showcased in black athletic shorts. Smooth, lightly tanned skin. Blond hair. Blond … ? Jacey held her breath as she eased into the opposite lane around him and from her peripheral vision saw her fear confirmed.

She passed Carter without a second glance, though she could feel his heated stare, and her heart rate spiked.
Great
. What was the protocol here? Not acknowledging him at all would be rude. He hadn’t said a word since the staff meeting a week ago, ignoring and avoiding her every chance he got. Maybe he’d pretend not to see her. Her heart sank at that thought. She caught herself and shook her head. “Nuh uh. No. I’m his boss.” She went over twenty different scenarios by the time she came to the end of the two miles and turned around.

He came back into view shortly after. Rivulets of sweat slid down his sculpted chest, the muscles of his arms looking massive as they pumped at his sides. Her gaze swung to the stationary double stroller ahead of her. Too late. She’d have to cross into the other lane to get around it. She glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t have time. A marathon cyclist sped toward her, looking for a loophole. Damn, she was too close to the stroller to stop, and the cyclist barreled on.

Hoping that she could squeeze through on the other side, she darted across the yellow line. The cyclist whizzed by, making a space where she couldn’t, but now she was headed straight for Carter. A group of walkers striding three across blocked him in. She could either play a very dangerous game of red rover with the walkers or take her chances with Carter.

He took the choice away by holding out his arms and reversing his run. His big hands gripped her waist as he jogged backward, trying to slow her momentum, but she was still rolling faster than he could handle, and they went down. He shielded her, taking the worst of it, and when they stopped tumbling, Jacey found herself locked in his arms, cheek to chest. She scrambled to sit, taking her weight off him and looking him over. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Fine.” But he didn’t look it. Aside from having the breath knocked out of him, Carter had a gash running the length of his forearm as well as some road rash on his legs. She’d be willing to bet his back was pretty scraped up as well.

“I’m so sorry.” Jacey slipped an arm under his shoulder to help him up and was surprised to see a smirk on his face.

“Not your fault. You’re actually a pretty good skater. Are you hurt?” His voice remained gravelly, but he breathed better and looked her over with an eye that knew injuries.

“No.” Jacey took a brief self-inventory and shook her head. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Carter pushed to his feet a bit unsteadily.

Jacey got up as well and lifted his arm, frowning at the deep cut. “I guess we’re neighbors in Diamond Cove. Which street do you live on?”

Amusement glimmered in eyes turned green-gold by the sunlight. “Desert Shore Drive.”

“I’m on Desert Palm; I’m closer. Come back with me, and I’ll fix you up. It’s the least I can do.”

“I think I can … ” He seemed to be in the middle of a protest, but he paused and studied her. The weight of his X-ray stare put her chest in a vise, and she got dizzy, forgetting to breathe.

“Sure. I guess I could do that. Thanks.”

Jacey could only nod, and she realized she still held his arm when he looked down, drawing attention to it. “Oh, sorry.” She released it and pivoted away before he could see the blush in her cheeks.

• • •

Carter blew out a long, slow breath as Jacey coasted a few feet ahead of him. He liked watching her skate. Her hips swayed side to side with each step, her movement fluid, almost sensual. His body, in bad shape from Nealy’s killer practices, was pain-free thanks to the adrenaline of rolling around with his hot boss — even though it involved unforgiving pavement and blood loss. It should have hurt, but he only felt her smooth, soft skin pressed to his, her body, so small and delicate, folded against him. And he liked it.

He closed his eyes and tried to push the thought away. They last time they’d spoken things weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy. She was his
boss
. If either one of them forgot that for a second, they were both screwed. And not in a good way.

Smaller trails broke off of the main path like exit ramps to different streets in Diamond Cove, and Jacey led him down the one to Desert Palm. Her street looked identical to his except for the McMansion she stopped in front of. It could house a football field. “You live … here?”

“I know. It’s ridiculous. My father bought it for himself then left it to Madden and me. We were going to sell it, but there was so much to do with the team that we decided it would be easier to stay for the time being.” She swiped an errant strand of hair behind her ear, slid a hand down the back of her neck. Carter swallowed hard.

“You live with your brother?” No judgment in his tone, just curiosity. She was already embarrassed, and he didn’t want to push it. Nice that even though she came from money, garish displays still made her uncomfortable. Her brother, though … on the few occasions he’d seen him, the kid screamed immaturity. His intelligence covered it up for the most part, but there was something about him. Carter only hoped Madden didn’t cause Jacey too much grief. The long-suffering look on her face said he might have a history of that.

“Yeah, but in this place, I hardly ever see him.”

“I can see how that could happen.” Carter smiled, and Jacey returned it. She looked more at ease, and nodded toward the house before skating up the drive and disappearing around the corner.

He followed behind, and by the time he stepped into the cool shade of the garage, Jacey had taken off her skates and stood with hot pink socks rolled halfway up her calves. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. She smoothed a hand over her ponytail and waited at the door as he closed the distance. “This way.”

She led him through the laundry room to the kitchen. He admired the view. The house wasn’t bad, either. She went up on tiptoe to get the first aid kit from the cabinet over the sink, and he stepped up so that when she turned around, he was right there, nearly flush against her. He couldn’t help it. She smelled like vanilla and coconut and looked so good in those shorts that his brain was no longer in control. She drew in a quiet breath and froze.

The air conditioning blasted on high, but he could only feel the searing heat between them. What was he doing? He should be angry that this woman seemed hell-bent on bringing down his team. He stepped back and held up his wounded arm, tried for a smile.

Her light blue eyes were wary as she regarded him. He couldn’t blame her. He dwarfed her without her skates. She swallowed and leaned back against the counter, opening the kit. She set it aside for a moment and wet a washcloth to wipe away the gravel as well as fresh and dried blood on his arm. He made it a point not to wince. It helped that he couldn’t look away from her face. She flushed then ducked her head down. Taking the Bactine spray from the kit, she hesitated. “I’m sorry, but this will — ”

“Sting. I know.” Carter smiled. He and Bactine were old friends.

“Right. Of course you do.” Jacey held his wrist with one hand and sprayed with the other. He didn’t flinch, but it was for show. It burned like hell. She turned back to the kit, and he watched her thumb through the different bandages.