Anna Sugden - A Perfect Distraction

He’d managed to greet her without sounding like an idiot. Then she’d turned and he’d seen them.

Buttons.

Bow-shaped buttons that begged to be undone. Starting at her knees, going up over the curve of her bottom and disappearing under her jacket. He imagined them continuing up her back, tracing her spine like a caress.

His tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth.

The journey to the first house had been torture. Her fresh, clean scent had filled the car. His gaze had slipped constantly to that tantalizing place where her skirt hitched up, showing the smooth skin above her knees. It had gotten worse as the day had progressed, not helped by the fact that she was good company. He’d enjoyed talking with her, even arguing with her.

He’d also wanted to taste those tantalizing lips.

Damn it. That kind of behavior was vintage Bad Boy and exactly what he had to cut out if he wanted to have the best season of his career. Furious, he’d tried to focus on the house-hunting. Easier said than done.

The fire in him had been raging dangerously close to out of control by the time they’d got to the last house. When she’d taken off the jacket, he’d known he was going down for the count. Even the sunken fishpond hadn’t snapped him out of it.

He’d been shocked when Maggie had flinched at his touch and lost it. Her tongue-lashing, though deserved, had surprised the hell out of him. Who knew Miss Prim had so much passion lurking beneath those drab outfits? He gritted his teeth, trying to wipe all thoughts of passion from his brain. As if he wasn’t having a hard enough time...literally.

He owed her an apology. “Maggie?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her frosty tone made her cute English accent sharp enough to slice a puck in half.

“I’ve been a jerk.”

She lifted her head and studied him carefully, distrust in the depths of her gaze.

Why? His reputation might not be great but it didn’t warrant her lack of faith in him. Whatever other failings he had, Jake had always prided himself on being a man of his word. He didn’t let people down.

Except for Adam.

His gut twisted as images from the accident flashed through his mind. He’d tried with Adam. Not as hard as you could have. He forced the dark thoughts away.

“I’ve got stuff going on right now, and I was wrong to take out my frustrations on you.”

She said nothing, her expression hard to read.

“These next few weeks are big for me.” He explained about tonight’s practice but played down his fears, afraid if he voiced them he’d jinx himself. Instead, he focused on the challenge ahead. “All the skating I’ve done since the accident has been part of the healing process. Exercises to break down the scar tissue and tone up my leg. Drills to build my fitness levels. Now I’ll see how I hold up to training with contact.”

As if she sensed the nervousness behind his words, concern shimmered in her eyes.

“The docs have given me the green light, so physically I’m good to go.” He rubbed his thigh, feeling the ridges of scars through the denim. “But I have to be one hundred percent up here.” He tapped his temple. “I can’t afford to be hesitant or duck plays. The coach needs to believe I can deliver my A-game from day one and my teammates need to know they can rely on me to do my job.”

Her expression softened. “That’s a lot of pressure.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, too. I was unprofessional. It won’t happen again.”

Relief whisked through him. “So we’re okay.”

She paused, then nodded. “You’re not going to fire me, even after what I said?”

“You’re right—I was behaving like a child.” While he was clearing the air, he should explain the rest of it. Well, not about the buttons. “I don’t get why folks can’t tell the truth on those property sheets. We’ll find out anyway. I know what to expect now. I’ll look at tomorrow’s houses with a different mind-set.”

The wariness didn’t disappear, but she seemed less tense as she pulled up in front of his parents’ house. “I’ll see you at Mimi’s tomorrow. Will late morning be okay?”

He grinned. “Sure. I need to pick up some new equipment at nine.”

“How about eleven o’clock, then?”

“Perfect.” He opened the door. “Look forward to it.”

“Me, too.” Her soft smile sent a tiny crack through the ice that had encased his heart since Adam’s death.

As she drove off, Jake walked up the path, whistling.

Tru met him at the door. “You ready to skate?”

“Give me five to get changed and grab my stuff.”

Tru was waiting in the kitchen with the two moms when he returned. “Good day?”

“Nightmare.” Jake told them about the places he’d seen.

“It takes time to find a home.” Aunt Karina patted his arm.

“That’s what Maggie says.”

“She’s a sensible girl.” His mom nodded, her expression serious.

“Pretty as a photo, too,” Aunt Karina added.

“Picture, Mom,” Tru corrected, smiling. “Pretty as a picture,”

Aunt Karina shrugged. “Picture, photo. Is the same, no?”

“Sure.” Before either mom could expand on the subject of Maggie, Jake said, “Gotta hit the road.”

They tossed their gear in the back of Tru’s Range Rover and set off. They’d barely gone a mile before his friend asked, “How’s it going with the lovely Maggie?”

“Okay. It’s harder than I thought to find the right place.”

“That wasn’t what I meant. Have you asked her out yet?”

“Why would I do that?”

Tru quirked an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“How many more times do I have to say it? No more women.”

“Yeah, yeah. But Maggie isn’t like your other women.”

“She’s still a distraction I don’t need.” No way he was telling Tru how much of a distraction. “Besides, she looks like the type who wants a serious relationship. And she has a kid.” He stopped, not wanting to overcook his objections. “I sure as hell can’t deal with that now. Maybe next June, after we’ve won the Cup.”

His friend shook his head sadly. “You’re throwing out the baby with the bathwater.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re cutting everything but hockey out of your life. Why? Most NHL players have a life outside hockey.”

Jake glared at him.

“You can’t keep punishing yourself over the crash,” his friend said quietly. “Adam’s death wasn’t your fault. He couldn’t handle that new Porsche. There was nothing you could have done.”

The pain that sliced through Jake’s gut was as acute as if the accident had been last night, not six months ago. “That’s the point—I did nothing. I was more interested in getting to that party and the twin puck bunnies than finding out what was wrong with Adam.”

The truth was he hadn’t wanted to do anything. He’d been fed up with his friend’s volatile, irrational behavior—laughing and joking one minute and erupting angrily the next. Been annoyed that it had affected Adam’s play, making him unreliable. Instead of trying to get to the bottom of his friend’s problems, especially when the media and the fans had been brutal about Adam’s inconsistency, Jake had ignored them, hoping they’d go away.

Some friend he’d been. And Adam had paid the price.

“You weren’t the only one. The whole team, even his roommate, had lost patience with him.” Tru punched his arm. “You aren’t in the cape-and-tights league, bro.”

Jake’s bitter laugh was humorless. “Adam’s funeral made that damn clear.”

He recalled that miserable day. Mrs. Stewart weeping over her son’s coffin. Mr. Stewart looking bewildered. Adam’s roommate, Nick, avoiding Jake, like he blamed him for Adam’s death. Those damn display boards, cataloging every year of Adam’s too-short life and every stage of his too-short hockey career. Each one a heartrending reminder of what a good man Adam had been.