A Perfect Distraction(91)

“It’s Maggie.”

“You’re kidding.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow. The Swede shook his head, his serious expression confirming this was no joke. Jake studied the picture again, but could only find superficial similarities with the woman he knew. “No way.”

“Maggie Hayden—her maiden name—was an über ‘It Girl.’” Vlad’s tone was apologetic. “The press nicknamed her ‘The Divine Miss H,’ and she had more tabloid coverage than Posh Spice.”

Maggie hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said any hint of trouble could be used against her. His gut twisted. He’d downplayed her concerns, brushed them aside. His arrogant assumption that he knew better was going to cost Maggie dear. “That was a long time ago. A lot has changed since then.”

“Not what the media are saying.” Juergen shifted uncomfortably. “It gets worse. There’s no mention of the story you’ve been pushing.”

Jake blinked. “Nothing?”

“Nothing about why you punched Tony, only that you brawled with a team’s major sponsor. Apparently, you’re proof that she’s still hanging out with the wrong kind of guy.”

“They also mentioned Tampa,” JB added miserably.

It really was that bad.

“See for yourself on the ’net,” Juergen suggested.

Pushing out of the locker room, Jake stalked down the corridor to the operations director’s office. “Can I borrow your computer, Tom?”

“Sure, Bad Boy. Help yourself. I’ve got to check a problem with one of the Zambonis.”

It took Google less than a second to prove the guys were right. The photo of Tony lying sprawled at Maggie’s feet was splashed across every publication, alongside pictures of him laying Tony out. For extra color, they’d added a plethora of stories and pictures from her past and his.

Meanwhile, her jerk ex-husband had expressed his “shock and disbelief” and his “heartfelt concern” for his beloved daughter, while vowing to wrest custody from Maggie. Mentions of Lee’s abusive behavior were brushed over in favor of descriptions of his “happy new life” and upcoming nuptials.

Jake slowly got to his feet. His body ached almost as badly as it had in those early days after the accident.

This was all his fault. Maggie had tried to warn him but he’d been too wrapped up in his own needs to listen.

Didn’t that have an uncomfortably familiar ring to it?

Now Maggie and Emily would pay the price. Just as Adam had.

Once again, Jake had been too damn sure of himself. Arrogantly assuming he could put everything right.

What a joke. All he’d done was make things worse. His selfishness had almost certainly cost Maggie custody of her daughter. Bile burned his throat.

He trudged back to the locker room, oblivious to the game preparations around him. As he suited up, questions bounced through his mind, like pucks on soft ice.

What could he do to fix things?

Haven’t you done enough already?

He could...

No.

Jake pulled himself up short. That was how he’d got them all into this mess.

He was no closer to figuring out what to do by game time.

Jake tried to concentrate on his play. He pushed through shift after shift, but even the adrenaline of a spirited ice battle couldn’t dull the nauseous edge to his tension. Though Maggie wasn’t in the stands, he couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to where she usually sat.

The Ice Cats played a solid first period and went back to the locker room a goal up.

As the coaches outlined tactics for the second, Jake’s mind strayed. Images of Maggie whirled through his brain. The uptight woman in the drab outfit and sensible shoes from their first meeting morphed into the sexy babe in that red suit with the killer heels. Then a smiling Maggie danced tantalizingly through his mind in a variety of outfits with strategically placed buttons before becoming the pouting blonde wild child with the barely there clothes.

A shroud of gloom settled about his taut shoulders.

By the time he hit the ice again, Jake’s nerves were jumpy, his concentration shaky. He gritted his teeth and tried to clear his mind.

It didn’t work. He barely made it through his shift.

Jake climbed back over the boards and slumped on the bench. As he waited for play to resume, he looked up at the Jumbotron. Instead of the rah-rah images pumped out by the arena, those damn pictures of Maggie cycled through his brain. They were joined by still more: Emily’s pale face as Maggie fanned the smoke from the burned bacon; Emily’s fear as she handed him the broken banister knob.

Dizzy with the mental kaleidoscope, Jake tightened his hold on the boards. It didn’t help.