A Perfect Distraction(50)

“I cheered the day your divorce was final. I loved that photo of you on the steps outside the court.” Jenny grinned. “Great shoes.” Her grin faded. “I pity your ex’s new girlfriend, now he’s got that hamstring problem.”

An involuntary shudder rippled through Maggie as memories of other times Lee had been injured flashed through her head. The drinking, the shouting. The hitting. She was glad she and Emily were out of reach. “I hope she realizes her mistake more quickly than I did. I wouldn’t wish what I suffered on my worst enemy.”

Jenny’s smile had a cynical twist. “Doesn’t look like it. In her last interview, she said she was keen to settle down with him and start a family.”

Though Maggie was pleased Lee had a woman to occupy his attention, the information made her nervous. When he’d been playing the field, he couldn’t have cared less about seeing Emily. What if his girlfriend changed his mind? Maggie swallowed a knot of dread. She had to keep Lee away from Emily.

“Hey, Jenny, what did you think of my game tonight?” Jean-Baptiste challenged, frustration in his dark eyes.

The table went quiet.

The only outward sign of Jenny’s tension was a fractional narrowing of her eyes. “Not bad, but your shot is unpredictable. You should check your blade. A touch too much curve.”

Larocque clenched his jaw. “Yeah, sure.”

“If Jenny says to check your blade, then check your damn blade,” Tru growled.

JB said nothing for a moment, then mumbled, “Okay.”

Maggie’s stomach twisted as he glared belligerently at Jenny and tossed back a whiskey. His actions were scarily familiar. She knew how dangerous a temperamental athlete became when he’d been embarrassed.

Jenny ignored him. She turned to Maggie and began discussing the latest celebrity gossip. Gradually, the tension eased.

As the meal drew to a close, several players left for a local club.

“We should have lunch sometime.” Jenny stood.

“I’d like that.” Maggie scrawled her numbers on a napkin. “Give me a call.”

Jenny nodded and smiled, then made her way toward Juergen.

Larocque leaped to his feet. “You should be with me tonight,” he snarled.

Jenny’s back snapped straight. “Excuse me?”

“I had a goal and an assist—I deserve to have you.” The arrogant rookie swaggered toward her.

“I decide who deserves to have me.” Frost coated Jenny’s words. “It sure as hell won’t be a half-assed kid who gave up three turnovers, made five poor decisions in key scoring situations and took a dumb penalty which led to a goal.” She turned on her heel and left.

Juergen followed, glowering at Larocque. Jean-Baptiste stormed out, swearing.

“That boy’s a real wild card.” Ike shook his head.

“He pulls something like that again and I’ll take him out,” Tru said through gritted teeth.

The weird ending put a damper on the evening.

Jake apologized as he drove her back to Tracy’s house. “The kid’s a jerk.”

“I’m sure he’ll settle down. He’s just trying to establish himself.” She didn’t know why she was defending Larocque, especially when he reminded her uncomfortably of Lee. But she’d sensed vulnerability beneath the bravado.

“The wrong damn way. You never do anything to hurt the team.”

She touched his arm. “You could keep an eye on him.”

“I’m the last person who should be babysitting a troubled kid,” he snapped, then fixed his attention on the road. From his set jaw, it was clear the subject was closed.

Startled by his abrupt attitude change, Maggie said nothing for a few minutes. Where had that come from?

Finally, she broke the tense silence. “I liked Jenny.”

“She’s great. Got an amazing head for hockey.” Warm affection softened his voice. “She played for a few years—was better than all of us—but gave it up to look after her sister.”

Maggie recalled Jenny’s reference to escaping abuse. Hopefully, someday, her new friend would trust her enough to share her story.

Jake shared stories of growing up with Jenny until he pulled into Tracy’s driveway.

When he opened her door, she stepped out of the car and into the circle of his arms. Her heart skipped a beat then began to dance.

His voice was a husky murmur. “Have I convinced you to spend more time with me?”

“Do you mean a real date?” Her gaze focused on lips so tantalizingly close to hers.

“A date. Another game. Whatever.” His head dipped.

“Um...I suppose so.” Her teasing words sounded breathy.

“Perhaps I can persuade you to make that a definite yes.” Jake brushed his lips against hers. Once, twice, three times. Sweet, featherlike touches.