Body Check (9 page)

“I want to meet them.”

“Who?”

“Who,” Theresa repeated, exasperated. “You know who! The Blades. Take me down to the locker room.”

“Oh, no. No way.” Janna tried to picture Theresa walking into that sea of sweaty, muscled flesh and knew instinctively that it was a recipe for disaster. Besides, she was in no mood to watch the entire team turn into blithering dolts at the sight of her gorgeous friend. “Forget it.”

“C'mon,”
Theresa pleaded.

“Well, can't we meet up with them at a bar or something? I know a bunch of them go out for a brew or two after a home game, and I know you know where. C'mon, Janna.” She clasped her hands together as if in prayer, her expression as innocent as a choirgirl. “Please?”

Janna thought. To be honest, the last thing she wanted to do was go out to some smoky bar and watch Theresa search for her soul mate among the players. That's all she'd need—her roommate dating one of the Blades. Plus she'd been out three nights this week at fund-raisers and was exhausted; all she wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and crawl into bed with the latest issue of
People
. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so, if Theresa's expression, which was now morphing into a “You owe me” scowl, was any indication.

“All right,” Janna wearily agreed as Theresa clapped with delight. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“
A
, you behave yourself, and
B
, we are out of there by two at the latest.”

“Agreed. And since that's
two
conditions, I have one, too.”

“What?” Janna asked suspiciously.

“When we get there, you have to tell me which of the guys looks best naked.”

Janna rolled her eyes. “I wouldn't know. They all look the same.”

Which was a lie. She knew damn well who looked best, but there was no way she was going to tell Theresa, just in case he was there.

 

 

Ty was at
the bar getting himself a Guinness when he heard a couple of the guys behind him say her name, telling her they were glad she'd finally decided to join them. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, and sure enough, there she was, looking damn cute in jeans and a simple, white, button-down blouse. She was with a tall, olive-skinned woman who looked like a kid in a candy store.

His heart sank. He'd come here to unwind with his boys after a rough game, not fend off the publicist from hell. He wished she'd consider where she was and give it a rest for once. She had to know that one mention of PR or Kidco would find him draining his glass and heading back out into the chilly night. He hoped, then, that she had come for the same reason he did, to relax with friends.

He returned to where he was sitting with Abby and Kevin Gill as Janna circulated amongst the other tables, introducing her friend to his players. His guys were gracious, welcoming. It made him feel proud. Of course, the friend was attractive, so it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was up. But the Chapter House tended to be a friendly place, which was why they all hung out there. Ty knew some people might think it was a real hole-in-the-wall, with its crummy old jukebox, dirt-caked windows, sawdust-covered floors and rickety old tables, but to his mind that was part of its charm. The wizened old bartender had been there forever and had a cache of entertaining tales about his days in the merchant marines that could keep you there all night. The atmosphere was low-key and the clientele were just regular working people, none of whom cared who the Blades were. It was a well-kept secret, a place where they could drink their beer in peace. Occasionally fans would show up, but Ty's feeling was that if they were clever enough to figure out where the team hung out, then they deserved to share a drink or two with them.

With the jukebox blasting some old hit from the '60s—Ty thought maybe it was “American Woman” but he wasn't sure—Janna and her sidekick eventually found their way to his table.

“Abby, Kevin, Ty—” Her eyes held his for a split second longer than he would have liked—“I want you to meet my friend Theresa.”

Kevin, ever friendly, raised his mug in salute. “Nice to meet you.”

Ty echoed the sentiment, as did Abby.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Theresa replied.

“Would you like to sit down?” Abby offered graciously.

Smiling, Janna and Theresa pulled up two chairs and sat down. They weren't seated for five seconds before Michael Dante, the team's third line winger, sauntered over from the table he was sharing with Blades defenseman Burke Dalton and the “Russian Rocket,” Alexei Lubov. Dante smiled politely and offered to buy Theresa a drink. His two front teeth were missing. She smiled back, but declined.

“Just one drink,” Dante urged, friendly. “We don't bite.”

“Maybe that's part of the problem,” Ty quipped under his breath. Didn't this Theresa realize that she was surrounded by men who, between them, had more false teeth than the residents of a nursing home? Janna scowled at him while Theresa appeared not to have heard. Realizing that she wasn't going to change her mind, Dante shrugged affably and left. The scene repeated itself when his teammate, Burke Dalton, approached with the same question. This time Theresa accepted, and with a quick glance at Janna to make sure it was okay, followed Dalton back to his table.

“Well, that was interesting,” observed Abby.

“That's one word for it,” Janna muttered, a small frown creasing her brow.

“Wonder what Burke had that Michael didn't,” Kevin mused aloud.

“Teeth,” Janna answered grimly, looking nervously in Theresa's direction.

She's worried about having to baby-sit her friend,
Ty thought. And now he was worried about having to baby-sit
her,
about sitting here and wanting to make sure she had a good time.
Why the hell did she have to come?

“Can I get you something to drink?” Ty heard Kevin offering, which annoyed him. He was going to ask the same thing, and now Kevin had beaten him to the punch!
Make up your mind, Gallagher. Do you want her to stay and have a beer with you or do you want her to go?

Janna looked grateful. “A Bud Light would be fine, thanks Kevin.”

“I'll get it.” Ty jumped to his feet. He could feel the three of them watching him with raised brows as he pushed back from the table and headed toward the bar, but he didn't care. Ordering Janna a drink would give him time to figure out how he wanted to handle being in a social setting with her. Up until now, he'd been doing a great job of avoiding her, pushing her out of his thoughts. He had to keep a clear head here. He placed his order and surreptitiously glanced back at the table, where she was chatting away with Kevin and Abby. When she was happy, her whole face lit up, the cornflower blue eyes crackling with animation. Those big eyes sometimes had a sense of waif-like vulnerability that made you want to protect her. Which is why he'd jumped on Lubov on the train. Had nothing to do with wanting to ensure Lex kept the hell away from her. It was all about protection.
Yeah, right
.

Order filled, he returned to the table and handed her the beer.

“What do I owe you?” she asked.

Ty waved his hand dismissively. “It's on the house.” He took a sip of his Guinness, the full-bodied taste warming his throat and belly. Nothing better than a nice dark beer after a backbreaking night out on the ice. “So what did I miss?”

Kevin rose, extending a hand to his wife. “Abby and I are going to dance. Janna can fill you in.”

You're gonna pay for this,
Ty's glare told Kevin, whose only response was a huge grin as he gently put his hand in the small of his wife's back and guided her out onto the tiny, makeshift dance floor.

“So,” said Ty, edging his chair an inch or two closer to Janna's so he wouldn't have to raise his voice to be heard. “How's your brother?”

The blue eyes registered surprise, then admiration. “He's fine. He talks about what you did for him incessantly.”

Ty shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “He seemed like a nice kid.”

“He is.”

Her eyes darted down to the floor, over to the wall, looking anywhere but at him. She was nervous, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Jesus Christ, she'd seen him naked. What could be so hard about talking to him? Worse, it was making him nervous. He took a long pull at his beer, then cocked his head in the direction of Theresa.

“Your friend—is she a puck bunny?”

Janna recoiled, offended. “What? Why? Are you interested?”

Ty laughed, unsure what to make of the testiness in her voice. “No. She's not my type.”

“What is your type?” she asked, looking directly at him.

“Well,” Ty began slowly, rolling his beer mug between his hands, “I guess that's for me to know and for you to find out.” Her glance darted away again then, and he used the awkward pause between them to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Look, I didn't mean to insult your friend. It's just that when she walked in here, her eyes glazed over like she'd hit the jackpot.”

“Theresa's not a puck bunny. She's a hopeless romantic.”

“Meaning?”

“She's imagining every guy in this room standing up at the altar in a tux while she glides down the aisle to the strains of ‘The Wedding March.' ”

Ty laughed. “So she's husband hunting, huh?”

“Continually on the look out for ‘The One.' ”

“Well, she's sure as hell barking up the wrong tree with that trio. Except maybe for Dante, who she seems to be trying hard to ignore.”

“Poor Michael Dante,” Janna lamented. “He seems so nice.”

“Isn't that what women want?” Ty queried edgily. “A man who's ‘nice'?”

“Nice is good. Remembering to wear your bridge in public is even better.” They both laughed at that.

“What does she do?” Ty asked, determined to keep the conversation on Theresa.

“She's a publicist at
The Wild and the Free
. We used to work together.”

“Ah.” He'd go to his grave before he'd tell her that he, like half the guys in the NHL, was totally addicted to that soap. Lots of jocks were. It was a way to pass the time when you on were on the road, stuck in a hotel room with nothing to do. He resisted the urge to ask if the actress who played Carmen was really a bitch and asked another question instead, one which interested him even more. “How did you get into publicity? Was it something you always wanted to do?”

Janna peered down into her drink. When she looked back up at him, he was taken aback to see her eyes were sad. “Actually, what I really wanted to do was start my own business.”

“So why didn't you?”

“It's complicated,” she replied evasively. “I'm not sure I can explain.”

“Try.”

Her eyes flashed then, which is what he'd hoped for. He hated the melancholia that had descended upon her so fast. She took another sip of her beer, thoughtful. Her eyes continued to have a hard time meeting his.

“I didn't pursue being an entrepreneur because I didn't have what it took.”

“Who told you that?”

No answer.

“C'mon, who told you that?” he repeated. “I want to know.”

Still, she kept silent.

“Oh, I see.” He leaned back in his chair. “You told yourself that.”

That got her attention. Whereas a minute before it seemed as if the tacky picture of dogs playing poker on the opposite wall held more interest for her than his face, now she was glaring at him. “Did you even try to start your own business?” he kept on. “Or did you throw in the towel the first time you had to sit down and write a business plan?”

“I threw in the towel after the hundredth time I sat down to write one, okay?” she snapped.

He ignored her. “Did you really not know what you were doing? Or is that something you've convinced yourself of to help you deal with not hanging in there and going for it?”

Janna looked stunned. “What?”

“C'mon, Janna,” he said cajolingly. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, friendly. “Be honest with yourself for one minute. Did you really think you weren't capable of starting up a business?”

She swallowed. “No.”

“Then why didn't you try?” He could feel a fit of Captain Gallagher's famous esteem boosting coming on, but couldn't stop himself. He hated seeing her this way. “Because it was too hard? Anything worth having requires a struggle. You know that, right? Christ, you don't give up trying to get me to do Kidco's bidding!”

“That's different,” Janna insisted.

“No, it's not. It's the same damn principle of persistence.” He paused, carefully measuring out his words. “I really admire the way you do your job, you know.”

Janna snorted. “Right.”

“I mean it. I may not agree with your reasons for doing it, since you know I think PR is bull, but I respect the way you march into the locker room day after day and tell the team what's what. Not everyone can do that, especially when it comes to hockey players. You should feel proud about how many of the guys have been willing to see things your way and cooperate on the PR stuff. It's a testament to your feistiness and powers of persuasion—powers you could tap into if you decided to start your own business.”

Janna mumbled something and looked down. Gazing at her, he felt as if he was actually seeing her for the first time. That tiny terror who relentlessly pursued him around the locker room had been replaced by this delicate woman sitting here beside him, a woman who was afraid to go after what was rightfully hers and soar. He couldn't believe it, which was proof of her steely determination. Apart from the first time they'd met and he'd nearly bitten her head off, he'd never have guessed in a million years that beneath her no-nonsense exterior, there lurked someone with serious esteem problems, someone whom he felt shouldn't have such problems at all.