Body Check (20 page)

“Of course it bothers me. But—”

“But what?” she snapped, cutting him off. She was glowering at him now. Ty fought to stay detached.

“You yourself said Lubov was harmless that time he was bothering you on the train.”

“Obviously
I was
wrong!”

She was squinting at him, hard, and had crossed her arms in a gesture of obvious displeasure. Clearly he'd said the wrong thing. In this situation, however, he knew everything he said was going to be the wrong thing, which is why he hadn't wanted to go down this road in the first place. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but was seized with a fierce back spasm. He hated admitting it, but he was more beat up than he thought, and the older he got, the longer it seemed to take him to recuperate from physical punishment—not that anyone on the team or coaching staff knew. Riding the wave of pain, he gritted his teeth until it passed. Janna, meanwhile, remained silent. He didn't expect sympathy from her, but for Chrissakes, an “Are you okay?” would have been nice.

“Don't mind me, I'm just dying here.”

“Oh, you're fine.” Janna waved her hand dismissively. She was peering at him now as if he were some revolting specimen beneath a microscope. “You believe him, don't you?” Her voice was chilly with disbelief. “You believe Lubov.”

“I'm not sure what to believe,” Ty replied cautiously. That was the truth. But not the one she wanted to hear.

“How can you say that?!”

Ty sighed heavily. There was no avoiding it. Time to dive into the shark tank. “No offense, Janna, but I remember how Theresa behaved that night you brought her to the Chapter House with you. She was coming on to my guys.”

“What?!!” Her voice was shrill enough to pierce an eardrum. “She was not coming on to them! She was flirting with them! There's a huge difference!” A sitting duck, he watched as her anger continued to gather force. “What are you insinuating, Ty? That Theresa is a ‘bad girl' who ‘brought it on herself' or ‘asked for it'? That her behavior in the bar that night somehow proves Lubov is telling the truth?”

“All I'm saying is it lends a little more credence to Lex's side of the story,” he said carefully.

“Oh my God.”

Ty involuntarily tensed as he watched the blood slowly drain from Janna's face.

“You do believe him. Admit it. You believe him.”

He wasn't sure which he wanted to silence more: the pain in his back, or the voice in his head which longed to tell her to let this conversation go for now, because he was in no goddamn mood for it, and her shrillness was making it even worse. Irritated, he came back with, “Don't put words in my mouth. I already told you, I don't know what to believe.” His hand went to his lower back as he slowly began massaging the muscle, his gaze contemplating the ceiling. “To be honest, worrying about who's telling the truth isn't really my main concern right now.”

“Oh? And what is?”

“How this lawsuit might affect team performance and morale. I don't give a rat's ass if the charges against Lubov are true or not. What's most important to me, as captain, is making sure it doesn't interfere with my guys giving one hundred percent, especially Lubov. If he's distracted, it hurts the team, which hurts our run at the Cup. It's not acceptable.”

There was a long, shocked pause. “I can't believe you're saying this. I can't believe all you care about is the team!”

He jerked his head to look her way. “That's my job, Janna—just like your job was to get out there today in front of the guys and the press and lie your little heart out on Kidco's behalf, saying
you
support Lex.” Her expression told him she had registered his comment like a slap. “I'm just doing what I'm paid to do. Like you.”

“So it doesn't bother you that you might be covering for a rapist and helping advance his career,” Janna said hotly.

“No more than it bothers you,” Ty shot back, irked she was getting sanctimonious on him.

“I'm a publicist, Ty, I don't have a choice. You do.”

“Fine.” He was on the verge of seriously losing his temper now. “Then I choose to turn a blind eye to Lex's possible guilt and to focus instead on what has been, and always will be, my number one priority: winning the Stanley Cup.”

Janna twitched with rage. “So that's it. He's not going to be reprimanded, he's not going to be ostracized, it's all going to be business as usual.”

“Yes, ma'am, it is. I imagine that's how it's going to be on your end as well, no?” Janna was silent. “Look, let's stop talking about this, okay?”

“Good idea.”

She rose. Ty watched as she marched over to the coat closet in his marble-lined foyer and fetched her coat.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“What the hell for? I thought we were ordering in Japanese.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?” With great effort, he forced himself to sit up. “Because I won't hang Lex out to dry?”

“Because I could lose my job if anyone finds out we're together, and it's not worth it.” She donned her coat and slipped her heels back on. “Plus I don't know if I can be with someone who puts winning at sports ahead of—”

“Integrity?” Ty interjected angrily.

“That,” Janna agreed primly. “And—”

“Whoa, wait a minute here.” The anger he'd been holding at bay couldn't be contained any longer. “You're saying I have to have integrity when it comes to Lubov, but you don't?” A dark chuckle escaped him. “No offense, sweetheart, but that's bullshit.”

“Don't call me sweetheart. It's offensive.”

“Not as offensive as your double standard.”

“I'm going.”

“For good?”

“Yes, for good. I don't think this casual, clandestine fling thing is working, do you?”

Ty shrugged diffidently. “I thought it was working fine, but hey, you wanna pull the plug because I refuse to do my job the way you think I should, you go right ahead. I might be a lot of things, but whipped ain't one of 'em.” He reached for the phone on the end table. “Shall I call you a car?”

“I'll get a cab, thank you.”

“Well, I guess that's that, then.” The irrationality of what she was doing knocked him for a loop, but he'd be damned if he'd let it show. “If you can stand my presence three seconds longer, allow me to say that professionally at least, I hope we're able to maintain the same warm, close relationship we've always had.”

“You bet.”

With that she turned and walked to his front door, the click, click, click of her heels on the black marble floor sounding harsh to his ears. There was a brief pause, a resounding slam, then silence.
So, that was it. Hasta la vista. Finito. Revert to former adversarial status
. Thoroughly exhausted, he settled back down on the couch and closed his eyes.

“What the hell just happened here?” he said aloud to the empty living room. He knew the answer: Janna had just had a major meltdown.
Face it,
he thought,
women are nuts
.
Ergo, Janna is nuts. Christ Jesus
. Well, maybe it was a godsend she pulled the plug, even though he did think it was a bit of an overreaction. He needed this kind of moody, crazy behavior like he needed a hole in the head. Better to go back to anonymous bimbos, no strings attached. That was a much better plan of action. But if that was the case, why did he feel as if his guts had been clawed out? And worse, why was he missing her already?

 

 

Okay, Janna asked
herself, as she fought her way through the densely packed crowds that made Manhattan's sidewalks a holiday hell, how stupid was it to break up with Ty three weeks before Christmas? Maybe breaking up was the wrong turn of phrase, since they weren't really “going out.” But still, how dumb was it to ditch the best lover you'd ever had in your life at this time of year? Talk about guaranteeing a textbook case of the holiday blues.

She tried to like Christmas, really she did. Tried to convince herself that elves were cute, and carols fun to sing, and trees a thrill to decorate. But it never worked. For as long as she could remember, Christmas meant only one thing: family discord.

Oh, her folks would always try to put a good face on it. The house would be decorated perfectly, with pine garland circling the gleaming banisters, candles flickering in every window, and the biggest, most perfect Scotch pine in the world dominating the den while a roaring fire blazed in the big stone fireplace. On Christmas Eve, her parents held a huge open house party for family, friends, and business associates. The house would ring with conversation and laughter as toasts were drunk way into the morning hours, after which a staff, hired for the event, would clean up so the family could toddle off to bed, sweet dreams of a hangover cure dancing in both her parents' heads. If Janna and her siblings were lucky, the fireworks between them wouldn't start until dinner was served later in the day. Actually, there had been a few years where they'd erupted while opening presents, but that was a long time ago. Even so, eruption was inevitable.

Demoralized just thinking about it, she ducked into a Starbuck's to get some coffee to warm her bones. Star-buck's always made her think about Robert. She wondered how he was doing. Maybe she would call him, just to touch base, say hi. Just to avoid being alone. God, she was pathetic.

The long line snaking up to the counter was at a virtual standstill, giving her more than enough time to indulge in her latest obsession, replaying her last scene with Ty. Maybe she'd been overly emotional; maybe she had acted hastily, crazily, in flouncing out the door after telling him they were history. But what did he expect? He just lay there on the couch like a lummox while she clued him in to what was really going on, and then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he had the sheer gall to suggest Lubov might not be lying. And worse, that he didn't care if he was, that the only thing that mattered was the Stanley Cup! Just thinking about it now had her harumphing and snorting all over again, causing people on the line to stare. But really, what was wrong with him?

And then there was that line of his about her double standard and about being whipped! It made her teeth grind. No, she was right to nip their little liaison in the bud.

But that didn't mean she didn't still want him.

She hated her job now, hated having to see that creep Lubov every day. She shuddered with anger. How she longed to smack that perpetual smirk from his lips. She couldn't stand him thinking—and acting—like he'd gotten away with something.

Then there was Lou, on her butt every hour of every day about trying to get Theresa to drop the suit. She knew he didn't mean to be putting excess pressure on her, but that's how she was experiencing it. Last but not least, there was the torture of being around Ty.

They barely made eye contact, and when they did, the look was guarded and hard. Conversation was cursory, strictly business. Sometimes she would steal a glance at him and think,
I know every inch of that man. I know the arch of his back, how he likes to be kissed. I know the feel of his body moving inside mine
. It depressed her. That was part of another lifetime, the one that existed before the lawsuit. Sometimes she caught herself wondering what would have happened if Lubov hadn't attacked Theresa. Would she and Ty have continued to keep things casual? Or would he have eventually realized there was more to life than the obsession to win, allowing their liaison to evolve into something deeper, a real “relationship”?

But Lubov
had
attacked Theresa, and things were what they were. He was the captain, she was the publicist. He cared about the team's performance, she cared about the team's image, and never, she mused bitterly, the twain shall meet. Queasiness took hold as she realized Lou planned on going over the details of the Blades' upcoming Christmas party with her when she arrived at the office. The last thing on earth she wanted to deal with was being at the same party as Ty Gallagher. And Lex Lubov. Left to her own devices she wouldn't even show up, but in this case she had no choice. All the big kahunas from Kidco would be there, and she'd have to smile and circulate and jump up and down for them saying, “See? See how presentable the team looks? See how hard I'm working? See?” Just imagining it made her brain constrict.

She finally made it to the counter, placed her order and received her tall latte, and ventured back out into the New York cold, unable to tear her mind from work. That was all she had now: work, and her friendship with Theresa. Maybe it was all she'd ever had.

 

 

 

 

“Tight-fisted bastids”
Lou had muttered when Janna helped him squeeze into a Santa suit that seemed in serious danger of splitting at the seams. He had tried to cajole her into dressing as an elf to assist him in handing out gifts, at this, the cheapest of all Christmas parties, but she would have none of it. The last thing on earth she wanted to face was Ty Gallagher seeing her in lime green tights and pointy yellow shoes.

Now she was trapped, listening politely while some big Muckymuck from Kidco bored her with the details of his three million dollar home.
Must be nice,
she thought sourly. She resisted the urge to point out how interesting it was that he made enough money to construct his own personal Xanadu off the New Jersey Turnpike, yet Kidco was so damn cheap they wouldn't spring for a hotel banquet room for this Christmas party. Officially, the word was that it was being held at Met Gar so that the “players could skate with their kids.”
Tight-fisted bastids
was more accurate.