Body Check (33 page)

Now look where she was. Because of her “relationship” with Ty, all that famous drive and focus she supposedly possessed was in potential jeopardy. But that wasn't even the worst of it. The worst of it was that she'd fallen in love with the man, and as far as she could tell, that wasn't going to come to anything, either. The tiny blue flowers of the forget-me-nots before her became blurry as tears filled her eyes. She was smart, funny, intelligent, sexy, or at least did a damn good job pretending to be. Why hadn't he fallen in love with her?

If she had a brain in her head—and given her current circumstances, she wasn't so sure she did—she would end things between them, immediately. What was the point? She was never going to get what she wanted from him, and it was now abundantly clear that their arrangement complicated things far more than she ever could have imagined. Ending things would allow her to rededicate herself to her career. It would free her up to find someone who would love her the way she deserved to be loved.

But then she tried to imagine what it would be like never to be held in Ty's arms again, or watch his eyes crinkle up with laughter, or talk to him about the corny old movies they both loved to rent and desolation overwhelmed her. There was no way she could pull the plug on seeing him. She didn't care how irrational it was. So what if their arrangement wasn't everything she wanted right now, she reasoned, pulling off her gardening gloves to touch the withering hyacinths. Maybe the longer she and Ty were together, the more he'd begin to see that she was the right one. Or maybe she was a prime example of a woman desperately grasping at straws. Again, she didn't care. Pitiful as it was, she would take what she could get for now, at least in her personal life.

But as for her professional life? Well, that was another matter. The more she thought it about it, the more she realized she would never be able to live with it if she let herself be bullied by Jack Cowley and his stupid threats. Might she lose her job? Yes. But it was a risk she had to take. Jack had the dirt, but she had the proven track record. Ty was always telling her to believe in herself, to stop the negative self-talk in her head and take to heart the words of the sign he kept up above his locker which read “Who dares, wins.”

Well, this time she was going to dare to fight back.

 

 

She found Cowley
in Lou's office, sitting in Lou's chair, his feet on Lou's now tidy desk, reading an issue of
Smart Money
. The look of triumph in his eyes made what she was about to say even more delicious.

“What are you doing in here, Jack?”

“Getting used to sitting in the Fat Man's chair. I take it you're here to tell me you're stepping down from the interim position?”

“Actually, Jack, I'm here to tell you the opposite. So I suggest you get out of the chair so that I can get down to work.”

“I did make it clear what would happen if you didn't see things my way, didn't I?”

“You'd tattle on me to Lou and Corporate. Yeah, you made that clear. Go ahead. I'll be shocked if they give a damn.”

Cowley laughed snidely. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?”

“I work hard, and I get results. Oh, and I'm smart. That's why Lou promoted me, made
me
the Associate PR director, not
you
. Or haven't you figured that out yet?”

Cowley stared at her. “You little bitch.”

“Actually, Jack, I'm a pretty big bitch. Now get out of the chair.”

“Wait'll you see what I plant in the press about you and Gallagher,” he hissed, reluctantly rising. “You'll be finished. Your reputation will be toast.”

“Take your best shot—after you brief the beat reporters at the rink, that is.”

“You'll regret this,” he spat as he strode toward the office door.

“We'll see.” Janna sat down in Lou's chair as the door slammed.

 

 

Well. That was
painless. And—shockingly—not nausea inducing!
Was it possible that she was finally breaking free of impostor syndrome? Happiness poured through her and she spun around and around in the chair, giggling like a little girl. She'd stood up for herself! She felt proud. Strong. Is this how truly confident people felt all the time? People like Ty? Because if it was, it was wonderful, she never wanted the feeling to end.

“You did it,” she whispered aloud. She finally believed in herself. Lou believed in her, too. And Corporate. And Ty. Especially Ty. She would have to thank him for this, thank him for helping her to see just how capable she was.

God, she felt invincible!

She took a deep breath, forcing her lofty thoughts back down to earth. Ty. She was going to have to warn him of what was about to come down, media-wise. Cowley would do his worst, and paint their liaison as sordid, of that she had no doubt. Her intention was to “No comment” her way through it until the noise died down, but she needed to know how Ty intended to handle it. Perhaps, she thought, they could discuss it over a very private, romantic dinner later that evening.

“I can't see
you anymore. I'm sorry.”

Ty held his breath, watching as Janna's mouth, which had been gabbing a mile a minute about how they should deal with that weasel Jack Cowley, began to tremble. Then she caught herself and forced her expression back to neutral. The minute he'd set foot in her apartment, he knew that it was going to be harder than he had imagined to say what needed to be said. The lights were down low, and she'd put a mellow, jazzy CD on the stereo. A beautiful table for two was set, complete with two long, glowing, white tapers and a small vase of fresh cut flowers. The aromatic odor of some spicy chicken dish filled the air, and Janna—well, Janna was a sight to behold, her bright, blue eyes luminous, her blonde hair shining like honeyed wheat, every curve of her small, lithe body outlined in the black linen sheath she wore. Seeing her, he wondered if he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

He'd toyed with the idea of waiting until they had finished dinner, but that seemed especially cruel: eating the wonderful meal she'd prepared for him, then turning around and dumping her. Better to do it up front, and get it over with. Then he could leave, take a walk outside to clear his head, and she could do whatever it was women did after a break up.

He said his simple, two sentence piece then waited for a response, but his statement just hung in the air, a storm cloud threatening the room. Janna was mannequin-still, her back ramrod straight while her small, delicate hands sat folded primly in her lap. Was she angry? Devastated? He couldn't tell.

“Janna?”

“I heard you.” Her voice was curt. “Is this because Cowley leaked the relationship to the press and you don't want to deal with it?”

“No, it's because seeing you distracts me and I need to put every ounce of attention I have into winning the Cup.”

Oh, I understand
, he wanted her to say, nodding her head sympathetically. But she didn't. Instead she just kept staring at him. Uncomfortable, he tried to backpedal. “It's not you, it's me.”

“And other assorted clichés.”

What could he say to that? She was right, it was a cliché. But it was also the truth. They sat in grim silence, and Ty found himself almost wishing she would weep, demand he go, anything. He was feeling like a total creep sitting there, his own words sounding like complete and utter bullshit to him, which was no doubt how they sounded to her.

“So let me ask you something,” she said suddenly, breaking the spell.

Ty braced himself for the breakdown that seemed inevitable.

“You say you have to concentrate on the Playoffs. Does that mean you planned on dumping me all along when the Playoffs rolled around?”

“Janna, we both went into this agreeing it was just a casual thing—”

“Answer me.” Her voice was sharp. “Were you planning to dump me before the Playoffs all along?”

“Quit saying ‘dump,' it sounds so—”

“Honest?”

“Cruel,” Ty provided softly. “And the last thing I ever wanted to be to you was cruel.”

Janna leaned forward. “You still haven't answered my question.”

Ty hesitated. “I didn't plan on us continuing into the Playoffs,” he reluctantly admitted. “I didn't plan on us lasting beyond a few months, to be honest.”

“I see.”

Tiny, so tiny, her voice had become. Worse than the silence, her tiny voice. God, what a bastard he was. If only she knew it was an act of self-preservation. That the last thing on earth he wanted was this, what was happening now. But he couldn't tell her. That would be like asking a hurricane to hit your house. The steel wall separating his emotion from reason was up, it couldn't be scaled, and he was not going to even try.

He stole a glance at her. Her pain was so real it felt as if it had taken form, as if another person sat there on the couch between them. A person he desperately wished he wasn't responsible for.

“I can't be distracted,” he said again, feeling a profound need to explain further, even though he knew words might make it worse. “I enjoy being with you, you know I do, but my first mistress has been and always will be hockey. You knew that when we got together, Janna.”

“I didn't know there was a predetermined expiration date when you planned to discard me.”

“Then that's my fault,” Ty said apologetically. “I guess I should have made that clearer.”

“I guess so,” she said, turning away.

Now
, he thought.
Now she'll ask me to go. Please ask me to go, Janna. This is excruciating
.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Janna said nothing.

He rose. “I guess I'd better get going.”

“One thing.” She turned back, zeroing in on his face. The anguish and desperation in her eyes were enough to force his guilty eyes to the floor.

“What?”

“Do I mean anything to you? Anything?”

Ty cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Of course you do. You're a good friend.”

“Friends don't sleep together, Ty. Lovers do. Partners do.”

She had him there. He paused, waiting for her to ask the question he didn't want to answer.

“That day in the lobby, when I told you how I felt? How come you've never mentioned it?”

“Janna,” he said quickly, “this type of discussion doesn't do either of us any good. Let's just end things here, okay?”

“Why, are you afraid to talk about it?” There was anger in her voice.

“No.”

“Then what's the problem? I want an answer, Ty. How come you never acknowledged what I said to you?”

“Just let it go.”

He moved to leave, but the mounting fury in her gaze pinned him to the spot.

“Hold on a minute. You got to say your piece, now I want to say mine.”

“Okay,” Ty said carefully.

“Sit down.”

He sat down.

“You're a hypocrite,” Janna began. “You tell your players, like you told me, not to be afraid, to reach for the brass ring, to take risks, rise to the challenge, but do you? No. You stick to what you know you're good at. When there's a chance to take a risk by having a real, loving, adult relationship, are you willing to try it? Of course not. And you know why? Because you're scared.”

He couldn't help but laugh when he heard that. “No offense, Janna, but I've never been scared of anything in my goddamn life.”

“Except intimacy and vulnerability. You're scared you'll be terrible at it, aren't you? Scared you'll be rejected, or find out that there's more to life than chasing a goddamn sports trophy. So you avoid the risk to avoid the pain. You lead a shallow, pathetic, one-dimensional life.”

“If I'm so pathetic and one-dimensional, ” Ty countered angrily, “why the hell did you want anything to do with me? Why did you say you loved me?”

“Because I saw there was more to you than your effing obsession to win, and I hoped—God how I hoped!—that I might be able to make you see that! But obviously I couldn't!”

Furious himself now, he stood, struggling into the jacket he'd slung over the back of the couch. “I think I've had enough of being psychoanalyzed for one evening, thank you very much. I'll take your advice in dealing with the media vultures and do the “No comment” dance. In the meantime, it would mean a lot to me if we could keep it civil at work.”

“That won't be a problem.”

“Good.”

“One more thing,” Janna said lightly.