Authors: Jennifer McNare
Unbuttoning her suit jacket, she slipped her arms from t
he unflattering garment and draped it over the back of the upholstered desk chair. With a weary sigh, she sank onto the cushioned seat and rested her elbows on the top of the vintage mahogany desk that had belonged to her mother, her gaze moving to one of the half dozen framed photographs that sat next to the phone. It was a picture of the three of them, her and her parents, taken just a few months before they’d died.
Coincidently, like
Ian, she had lost both of her parents in a tragic accident. During her sophomore year of college, a police officer had come to her sorority house and informed her that her parents had been involved in a fog-induced, six-car pile up on the Pacific Coast Highway. They had been killed instantly. Up until then, it had been the absolute worst moment of her life. At the time, she had thought that nothing could ever be as horrible and as painful as losing her parents. But astonishingly she’d been wrong.
With time
, her grief over the death of her parents had lessened and with the support of her friends she had gotten through the worst of it, gradually becoming much-like her old self again. However, what had happened two years later, the nightmare that haunted her to this day, was something she feared she would never get past, something that had altered not only her life, but who she was as a person.
Now
, at twenty-five, she was a mere shadow of her former self. The happy-go-lucky, outgoing girl of her youth was no more. Regrettably, that girl was now encased in a fragile, protective shell that had the potential to crack, perhaps even shatter, at any given moment. It was a pitiful existence at best, she knew that, but sadly it was all she had. But now, what Ian was asking her to do could very well destroy that fragile shell, splintering it into a thousand pieces, pieces she might never be able to put back together.
And then what?
Could she take that risk? Could she do it for Ian? She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Despite her fear, she knew she had to try. She owed him that.
Eight
months after graduating with a business degree from UCLA, seven months after she’d escaped the clutches of a madman, and six months after she had been released from the hospital, she had changed her last name, moved to Minnesota and taken the position of Ian McNealy’s personal secretary. Alice Foster, his father’s secretary for the past twenty years and a close friend of her parents, had been on the verge of retirement and had gotten her the interview. At her request, she had also kept silent regarding Britney’s past.
Despite her
youth and lack of experience, she had impressed Ian with her keen intelligence and eagerness to learn. And much to her surprise, he’d given her a chance. In turn, she’d worked hard to prove herself, excelled at the job and had earned a permanent position within the Blades organization upon Alice’s retirement. But more importantly, Ian had offered her a challenge, a distraction, the chance to focus on something other than her nightmares. Even though he wasn’t aware of what he’d done for her, she would never be able to repay him. Her demanding, high-pressure job had been her salvation, and Ian, her boss and now her friend, had made all the difference. She would do this for him. She had to.
Standing up, she walked slowly toward her bedroom, reaching for the pins in her hair as she went. As her long blonde hair fell in gentle waves to the middle of her back, she placed
the handful of pins on top of her dresser and massaged her aching scalp. Pulling the glasses from her face, she set them there as well. It wasn’t as though she needed to wear them at home. She had no problems with her vision; the lenses weren’t prescription, merely lightly-tinted glass. Unbuttoning her white cotton shirt, she freed her arms and tossed it into the hamper that sat just inside the large walk-in closet and then removed her pants, placing them neatly on a hanger to await her next trip to the drycleaners.
Turning,
she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror that was attached to the rear wall of the closet. The delicate pink bra that cupped her breasts and the matching pink panties that hugged the gentle contours of her derrière were in sharp contrast to the drab-colored, shapeless garments she’d just removed. Bypassing the racks of conservative shirts, pressed slacks and darkly colored suit jackets, she reached for one of the soft, velour sweat suits that hung at the rear of the closet. The one she chose was a bright, fire engine red. It was super comfy and one of her favorites, though she never wore it outside the safe haven of her condo. Red was a color that drew attention.
D
espite the somber-looking clothes she wore to work and pretty much whenever else she left her condo, she’d always had a fondness for pretty, feminine colors and hadn’t been able to completely remove them from her life. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Despite an atypical fondness for the outdoors, she had always been a girly girl when it came to clothes, hair and makeup. She loved bright vibrant colors, as well as pretty pastels, and she’d always had a fondness for ribbons and lace.
The décor of her condo also attested to her love of all things colorful and
beautiful. Her furniture was a tasteful mix of modern and traditional and she had several pieces of vibrant artwork hanging on the walls, colorful pieces that enhanced the warmth and coziness of the rooms. She’d kept several things from her parent’s home as well, such as her father’s small collection of vintage clocks, her mother’s writing desk and her parent’s antique cherry bedroom set.
Slipping into her comfortable clothes, she thought about retrieving h
er luggage from where she stored it under the bed, but then decided against it. Packing could wait. She hadn’t eaten lunch and her stomach was starting to rumble from more than just her nerves.
“What
the hell do you mean you’ve already made up your mind?” Bruce Eldridge demanded, scowling in frustration. “Damn it, Jake, you haven’t even seen the latest offer from the Panthers.”
Seated upon
an expensive leather armchair in Bruce’s, plush Los Angeles office, Jake’s expression was unruffled. “I don’t need to see the offer from the Panthers,” he replied calmly. “I’m staying with the Blades.” He could see that Bruce, his agent and friend for the past eight years, was about to argue, so he quickly continued on. “Look Bruce, I’m thirty years old. I’ll probably only play for a few more years and I don’t want to finish my career with another new team. Besides, I like the Blades organization and I like living in Minnesota.”
“What about the Avalanche?”
Bruce questioned, clearly unwilling to accept Jake’s decision without a fight, a decision that could potentially cost both of them a great deal of money. “Hell, Colorado isn’t that different from-”
“I’m staying with the Blades,”
Jake interrupted, his tone as well as his expression uncompromising. He wasn’t stupid; he had a degree in finance from one of the best schools in the country and he was well-aware of the fact that his decision might cost him monetarily, but he simply didn’t care. Hell, he already had more money than he could ever hope to spend in one lifetime. No, this wasn’t about money; it was about what he wanted to do with his life and where and how he wanted to spend the remainder of his athletic career.
“Fine,” Bruce
muttered grudgingly, the tone of his voice expressing his displeasure. “But for Christ’s sake don’t tell anyone else that you’ve already made your decision! I’ve got less than two months to put the screws to Ian McNealy, and if he finds out that you’ve made up your mind to stay with the Blades I won’t have a dammed thing to bargain with.”
“You got it
, boss,” Jake replied with a satisfied grin. Settling back into the comfortable chair, he eyed his agent who stood just over five-feet-six inches tall and weighed in around one-forty sopping wet, and felt a moment’s sympathy for the Blades owner. Bruce might be small in stature, but he was as ferocious as a pit bull.
“By the way, McNealy
called me this morning,” Bruce said. “Apparently he heard about Amber’s resignation and wants to help you out.”
Jake arched his brow
curiously. “Why?” Providing him with a personal assistant wasn’t included in his contract with the Blades.
“
Clearly he’s desperate to keep you with the organization,” Bruce said with a grin. “He’s already got someone lined up to help you through the summer, or at least until we can find you a permanent replacement for Amber.”
“Great.”
Permanent, ha, that was funny
, Jake thought to himself. Including Amber, who’d given her notice last week, he’d gone through three personal assistants in the past two years. Though it wasn’t as if he was a tyrant or anything, despite how it might seem. In fact, he was a pretty easygoing guy. It was the pressure of the job. Thanks to a winning combination of talent and good looks, he was one of the most highly recognized, as well as one of the most marketable athletes in professional sports. He was to hockey what the Manning brothers were to the NFL, what David Beckham was to soccer, and so on…
or so Bruce liked to tell him anyhow
.
Remarkably,
considering that hockey wasn’t the most popular sport in the US, he had more endorsement deals than several of the country’s most high-profile athletes combined. His schedule was a constant shuffle of games, photo shoots, charity events and juggling the never-ending requests for his attendance at one function or another. During the hockey season he traveled almost non-stop, and keeping up with his grueling schedule, his whirlwind lifestyle, as well as the constant media attention, all took their toll.
“
Get this,” Bruce began, with a ‘you are
not
going to believe this’ expression. “He’s lending you his own personal secretary for the next eight weeks.”
The Ice Queen
?
Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Bruce shook his head
, his grin widening in rapacious delight. “Like I said, he must be desperate.”
“Terrific
,” Jake replied, though his tone was far from enthusiastic. Even though he’d only been with the team for half a season, he was well-aware that McNealy’s secretary had earned a rather unique reputation within the organization. They referred to her as The Ice Queen, not just the players, but members of the corporate staff as well, though never in front of McNealy.
Apparently
she’d earned the nickname shortly after obtaining her position with the Blades. Her solemn manner of dress, austere hairstyle and the ugly, oversized glasses she wore were bad enough, but it was her chilly, almost frigid personality that had earned her the unflattering moniker. He’d met her only once, when he and Bruce had visited McNealy at the Blades headquarters just before he’d joined the team last winter. However, even in that one brief meeting he had gotten the distinct impression that
The Ice Queen
was a fitting title.
“I told him you wanted to leave for the cabin on Saturday, so he wants you to stop by the office tomorrow afternoon to go over the logistics.”
“I can’t wait,” Jake repl
ied, with a sardonic half-smile. Though he would love to tell McNealy thanks but no thanks, unfortunately he needed someone who could hit the ground running, someone capable of taking care of things while he did his best to enjoy every minute of his too short break from the non-stop activity of his daily life. And while she might be lacking in personality, he was pretty sure that The Ice Queen was damn good at her job.
“In the meantime, I’ll have Tricia start looking into replacement options for you,” Bruce began, “and we’ll se
e if we can’t find someone who can go the distance this time.”
Sadly, Jake was far from optimistic.
The following
morning Jake arrived back in Minneapolis, and at just a couple of minutes past two o’clock, he walked into the lobby of the Blades corporate offices. The receptionist who greeted him was the same attractive brunette he remembered from his last visit. She smiled brightly, her gaze sweeping him from head to toe as he approached the desk.
“Good afterno
on, Mr. McCoy,” she said warmly as she stood up and made her way around the desk. “If you’ll just follow me, Mr. McNealy is expecting you.” Her gaze was appreciative, but not overly forward as she took in his tall, six-foot-three inch frame.
As he followed her in the direction
of Ian’s office, he noted the elegant looking desk that was situated just outside and slightly to the right of the office door. Though the nameplate read Britney Taylor, the desk was currently occupied by a fifty-something blonde with a pleasant smile and a face that displayed a tasteful amount of artfully applied cosmetics. Definitely
not
The Ice Queen. “Go right in,” she said, motioning them toward the closed door.
Knocking softly the receptionist
opened the door, smiling at Ian as he looked up from the paperwork atop his desk. “Mr. McNealy, Mr. McCoy is here,” she said as Jake followed her into the lavishly appointed office.
“Jake,
it’s good to see you,” Ian said, coming around from behind his desk to shake his hand. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned toward an empty chair. “Can we get you anything? Something to drink, perhaps?”
“No, I’
m fine thanks,” Jake replied, as he settled his large frame onto the plush leather seat.
Ian nodded and turned his attention back to the receptionist.
“Susan, can you ask Grace to hold my calls please.”
“Of c
ourse, Mr. McNealy,” she replied. Exiting the room, she pulled the door closed softly behind her.
Glancing a
round the room, Jake could see that Miss Taylor wasn’t present.
“Britney should be here any moment,”
Ian said, noting Jake’s sweeping gaze. “She just had to run something down to human resources.”
“
Ian, I appreciate your offer, but you really don’t have to do this. I hate the thought of leaving you short-handed.”
“Jake, it’s no trouble at all, I assure you,”
Ian replied, leaning casually back against his desk. “You’re in a bind and I’m in a position to help. I would do the same for any of our guys. The Blades organization will always put the needs of its players first and foremost. I hope you know that.”
Wow,
Bruce was right. McNealy
really
wanted him to sign with the Blades, he realized. He seriously doubted that Ian would willingly give up his own personal secretary for two months for anyone else on the team, regardless of what he’d just said. Despite their somewhat misleading secretarial titles, the individuals who filled these types of roles for big money power players like Ian McNealy were highly educated, fiercely dedicated to their jobs and able to perform with an amazing degree of faultlessness and professionalism, all under a tremendous amount of pressure.
As if on cue, there was a light knock upon the door just before it swung open. Standing, Jake turned to look at
the woman he would be spending the next two months with. She looked the same as he remembered, frumpy hairstyle, ugly glasses, no makeup and she was wearing a hideous chocolate-colored pantsuit that made her look like, well, like a brown mudsicle for lack of a better comparison.
“Hello
, Mr. McCoy, it’s nice to see you again.”
Though her tone was polite
, Jake didn’t miss the slight edge to her voice, nor did he fail to note the rather unenthusiastic expression on her face. Hmm, apparently The Ice Queen wasn’t too eager about her new assignment. Why wasn’t he surprised?
“Miss
Taylor.” He nodded politely as she made her way to the empty seat next to his.
Britney
kept her eyes downcast as she sat, concentrating on opening the small laptop she’d positioned on her lap. “Shall we begin,” she said, looking up at Ian.
Well
then, so much for pleasantries, Jake thought, as he resumed his own seat.
Approximately twenty minutes later, Ian, Jake and Britney were close to wrapping up their meeting. They had gone over Jake’s schedule for the upcoming months and outlined the bulk of Britney’s responsibilities. It was nothing she couldn’t handle.
“And w
here will I be staying?” When her question wasn’t answered immediately, Britney looked up from her computer. “I assume there is a hotel within driving distance of the cabin.”
“Actually, you won’t
have to worry about accommodations. The cabin is plenty big enough for the both of us. I’m afraid I let the architect get a bit carried away,” Jake said with a little chuckle.
“You want me to stay at your cabin?”
For the first time since taking her seat, Britney looked directly at Jake McCoy. She had done her best to avoid doing so throughout their meeting, focusing instead on taking notes; letting the two men steer the conversation around her.
“
It’s more of a house than a cabin, and I assure you that it is equipped with all of the modern conveniences,” Jake replied a bit curtly. Miss Taylor’s horrified expression was a little insulting.
“No, I mean, I’m sure
that it is. It’s just that-”
He cut her off, still irritated by the horror-struck look on her face, at least the part of her face
that he could see, the part that wasn’t obscured by those awful glasses. “If you’re worried about privacy, you don’t need to be concerned. The guest suite is quite large and very private.”
“Good, that’s settled
then,” Ian stated with an overly bright smile.
No, no, no, it is absolutely not settled,
Britney wanted to shout, but the look in Ian’s eyes kept the words lodged in her throat. She could almost hear his silent plea,
Please don’t screw this up for me, Britney.
Though it felt as though she had the weight of a concrete block pressing down upon her chest, she forced herself to remain silent, at least for the time being. If need be, she could make other arrangements for her stay once they arrived in Sun Valley.
“
If we’re finished here, I’d better be going,” Jake said, rising from his chair. “I need to tie up a few loose ends before we head out tomorrow.”
“Of course, let me walk you out,”
Ian offered, pushing himself away from his desk.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Miss
Taylor,” Jake said with cool politeness, tipping his head slightly in her direction.
She managed a weak smile and a slight nod of her own in return.
She wanted to cry.
At nine o’clock the following morning, Britney stepped from the elevator into the front lobby of her building.
She pulled a large, rolling suitcase behind her, with another smaller bag resting on top and a large, black duffle bag was slung over her left shoulder. Glancing about, she spotted Frank waiting patiently by the front door. Frank was Ian’s driver and this morning he was taking her to the airport where she would be meeting Jake for their ten-thirty flight to Sun Valley.
“Morning, Miss
Taylor,” he greeted, walking toward her.
“Good morning
, Frank,” she replied, smiling warmly as he reached to take the heavy duffle bag from her shoulder. Frank Murphy was a big burly fellow with a cheerful disposition, a kind heart and a thick Boston accent. He’d been with Ian longer than Britney had and he was one of the few people she was truly comfortable around. Perhaps it was because in some ways he reminded her of her father. He was a family man with a wife and four children, two boys and two girls, and a baby on the way. Though he had a somewhat imposing look about him, Britney had quickly discovered that he was actually a teddy bear at heart. “How’s Jenny doing?” she asked as they made their way out to the car.
“
She’s feeling a lot better now,” Frank replied as he popped the trunk on the sleek, black Mercedes sedan idling just outside the building’s front entrance. “Doc says she should be able to come home tomorrow.”
“
Oh good.”
Poor Jenny.
Like she had during the early stages of her previous pregnancies, Frank’s wife had been suffering with acute morning sickness for the past several weeks. This time however, it had gotten so bad that she’d ended up in the hospital.
“She wanted me to thank you again for the gift basket and flowers,” he said as he
loaded the bags into the trunk. “She’s really looking forward to that spa day,” he added with a grin.
“
I’m so glad. After what she’s been through, she definitely deserves a day to be pampered.” Along with an assortment of goodies, she’d included a gift certificate to one of Minneapolis’ top day spas in the get-well basket that she and Ian had sent to the hospital.
Once they got on the road, the drive to the airport took about twenty minutes, twenty minutes that without the distraction of Frank’s upbeat conversation, she most likely would have spent hyperventilating.
Af
ter passing through the secured entry, Frank then drove to the hangar that housed the Blades’ 727, the plane that flew the players and staff to all of their out of town games, as well as Ian’s own private jet. As he slowed to a stop in front of the hangar, she saw that Ian’s Gulfstream had been pulled out onto the tarmac. At his insistence, the luxury jet would be flying her and Jake to Sun Valley.
Stepping out of
the car, she waved to the pilot who was standing at the bottom of the extended steps that led up and into the plane’s interior. She was well-acquainted with the pilot and co-pilot, as well as the two flight attendants who worked for Ian, for she occasionally traveled with him on his out of town business trips. Fortunately, flying wasn’t one of her fears.
After saying a
quick goodbye to Frank as he unloaded her bags, she turned and made her way to the plane. Eyeing the open door, she wondered if Jake was already inside.
“
Good morning, Miss Taylor. We’re still waiting for Mr. McCoy,” the pilot informed her, as she approached. “As soon as he arrives we’ll be ready to depart.”
“Okay, thanks
Tom,” she replied, and then started up the steps.
“Hello,
Allison,” she said to the tall redhead who stood just inside the door.
“Good mo
rning, Miss Taylor,” she greeted. Her lips, covered with a glossy film of cherry-red lipstick, parted in a welcoming smile.
Allison
always seemed to be in a good mood, but this morning she seemed even more chipper than usual and Britney couldn’t help wondering if Jake McCoy had something to do with that. Though Allison served as an attendant on all of the team flights, as well as Ian’s private plane, she was probably excited about the prospect of attending to Jake in the much more intimate setting of the Gulfstream.
“Good morning
, Miss Taylor. Can I get you anything before we depart?” asked the other flight attendant as Britney made her way to her seat.
“No thank you
, Heidi,” she replied to the attractive blonde. “I’m fine for now.”
She looke
d a little relieved. Britney guessed that she was eager to join Allison by the open door so that she too could watch for Jake’s arrival.
“Al
right then. Just let one of us know if you change your mind.”
Settling into one of the
plane’s luxurious leather seats, Britney set down her briefcase and took out her laptop. There was nothing that needed her immediate attention; it was just a distraction really. As she turned on the power, she heard the excited murmurings of Allison and Heidi. Glancing up, she watched their faces light up as they stood looking out the open door. Clearly, Jake had arrived.
After greeting the pilot, Jake walked up the steps to the plane, smiling politely at Allison and Heidi when he reached the top. “Morning, ladies.”
“Good morni
ng, Mr. McCoy,” the pair greeted simultaneously, their smiles radiant as they stepped back and allowed him to pass.
Entering the cabin, he immedia
tely caught sight of Miss Taylor. She was already seated, her laptop sitting open on her lap. If it was for his benefit she needn’t have bothered; there was no way in hell he felt like working. He had a splitting headache, but it was of his own making. He and several of his teammates had met up at their favorite sports bar for a few drinks, some darts and several games of pool the night before, and he had a serious hangover to show for it. He hadn’t gotten home until just a few hours before dawn and he was not only hung over but exhausted as well. More than anything, he needed a nap. “Miss Taylor,” he greeted courteously.