Rachel Gibson: True Love and Other Disasters

He groaned deep in his throat, a sound of pleasure and possession. His tongue slid into her mouth, the kiss feeding all the hungry places in her starving heart and soul. All the places that loved him and longed to be with him. When he lifted his head, he looked into her eyes. “Why don’t you start over? Why have you been avoiding me?” His thumbs softly brushed her cheeks. “The truth this time.”

She loved him too much to tell him. “I can’t.”

“You can tell me anything.”

She shook her head. “It’s bad.”

“Have you found someone else?”

“No!”

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he looked relieved. “Then what?”

“It’s best that you don’t know.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

Again she shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “Can’t you just leave it alone? Can’t you just take my word that you’re better off not knowing?” Where was Layla when she needed her? The tough one. The one who could resist interrogation and come up with believable lies.

He folded his arms across his chest, the belligerent hockey player. “I’m not leaving until you spit it out.”

Once she told him, he’d leave. He’d go away. Perhaps angry, but he’d have his answer. “Landon has pictures of us,” she relented.

His arms fell to his sides and one brow rose up his forehead. “Virgil’s son?”

She nodded. “I have to sell him the team or he’s going to send them to the newspapers and put them on billboards, like our PR photo.”

“You’re selling him the team?”

“I have to.”

A fire replaced the relief in his eyes and he said, “Like hell.”

She recognized that fire. She’d seen it on the jumbo tran when he faced an opponent in the corners. “I don’t have a choice.”

He stepped back and took a deep breath through his nose. Pebble threw herself against the glass and he walked to the door and let her in. “You have a choice. I’ll think of something.”

“You can’t solve this, Ty. He’ll do it. He’s not bluffing. He’ll ruin you to get what he wants.”

“He can’t ruin me, Faith.” He pointed to Pebbles jumping up on her back feet. “Settle your ass down .”

The dog stopped barking and sat. Faith would have been impressed if she didn’t have more important things on her mind. “He planned to trade you, but I think I’ve convinced him that you broke up with me. So I don’t believe he’s going to now. Which makes your being here too risky. You have to leave. Sneak out somehow, just in case.”

She expected some sort of gratitude. Instead his gaze narrowed even more. “And you weren’t ever going to tell me any of this?”

Her eyes started to water once more. “No.”

Deadly quiet, he asked, “Why the hell not?”

She thought she’d made it clear. “Because you have a lot of other things to worry about right now.”

“And you thought what? That you should sacrifice yourself and hand over your hockey team?”

She brushed a sudden bead of moisture from beneath her eyes. “I know how important winning the cup is to you.”

“Don’t you think you’re important?”

She stilled and her hands fell to her sides.

“I see that you don’t.” He folded his arms across his chest like he was mad at something. No, not something. At her . “You don’t have a very high opinion of yourself. Or is it me you don’t have a very high opinion of?”

“I have a high opinion of you.” She was confused and shook her head. “Why are you mad at me ?”

“Why?” he asked, incredulous. “I’ve been in hell these past few days. I almost punched your assistant because he’d seen you and I hadn’t. I’ve been walking around worried and pissed off and it all could have been avoided.”

Now it was her turn to be incredulous. He’d almost punched poor Jules. “How?”

“You should have told me about this. You should have let me take care of it. This involves me too. Do you honest-to-God believe I’d let you hand over your hockey team to cover my ass?”

She nodded and laid it all out quite reasonably for him. “For five years I let Virgil take care of me. Now it’s my turn to take care of someone.”

He laughed without humor. “You want to take care of me?”

“Yes.”

“If I let you do that, what kind of man does that make me?”

She wasn’t sure what he meant.

He cleared it up for her. “It makes me a pussy.”

“It’s done.” She’d saved his ass and he was worried about being a “pussy”? So much for gratitude. “I signed the letter of intent to sell.”

“If I recall, you signed one before and changed your mind.” He moved toward her. “Do you trust me?”

“To do what?”

“Do you trust me, Faith?”

It seemed very important to him, so she answered, “Yes.”

He shoved his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out his keys. “Then show up for Game Seven tomorrow with your skates.”

“Landon banned me from the skybox.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just show up with your skates, and when we win, come out onto the ice.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Not real sure. I’m still too pissed off to think straight, but no one threatens me or what’s mine and gets away with it.” He shook his head. “Don’t ever make me crazy like you have the past few days.” He kissed her hard, then moved toward the door.

“Yours?” A smile curved her lips. A smile that lit up the dark empty places she’d been living in for the past few days. She hurried after him. “You think I’m yours.”

“I know you’re mine.” He walked out of the penthouse and headed for the elevators. “And for God’s sake, don’t sign any more papers Landon sends over-eh?”

We Are the Champions” blasted from the huge arena speakers, clashing with the sounds of fourteen thousand fans cheering and stomping their feet inside the Key. The cacophony of noise faded into the background as Ty stepped onto the ice. He glanced up at the owner’s box and the rows of Duffys seated in it as if they had that right. Anger tightened Ty’s stomach and lowered his brows as he looked up at the man who’d had him and Faith followed. At the man who’d hired someone to take sleazy photos and ruin their lives. Or at least try.

Landon might scare Faith, but Ty wasn’t so easily frightened. He’d come up against men bigger and badder than Landon Duffy, and he hadn’t lost a fight yet. He wasn’t about to lose this one either. It was the most important fight of his life, and he’d thought long and hard about all his options. Short of having Landon killed, there was only one solution. Just one.

He had to win the Stanley Cup. And he had to do it without going into overtime. Pittsburgh had won the last three games in overtime.

Ty skated twice past the face-off circle and then moved inside. For the seventh time in two weeks, he faced off against Sidney Crosby. “Sid the Kid” was twenty-two and had the facial hair of a thirteen-year-old. But the Kid’s age and lack of anything resembling a beard had nothing to do with ability. He hit hard and skated fast and was already a top-five player in the NHL.

“Ready to lose, Cindy?” Ty asked.

“I’m going to kick your ass, old man.”

Ty laughed. “I’ve got more hair on my nuts than you have on your whole face, Kid.” He got into position and waited for the first puck of the night to drop. Faith was out there in the arena somewhere, but he wasn’t going to think about that. If he wanted everything to work out the way he’d planned, he had to focus on the game. One play at a time.

The puck dropped. Game on. Both teams had come to win. Both were determined to win the ultimate prize, and Ty knew this game wasn’t going to be easy.