Body Check (11 page)

“You mean Kidco's reputation,” Ty sneered.

Janna said nothing.

“It's not my problem.”

“God help me,” Janna muttered to herself, her temper starting to simmer. “I'm begging you, okay? Please help me out just this once.
Please
.”

“No.” His gaze was unyielding. He raked a hand through his blond hair, frustrated. “You know how I feel about this stuff, Janna. Give it up.”

“Oh, that's rich,” Janna snorted. “The man who told me that persistence is the key to achievement in life is now telling me to give it up! You should be happy I'm hounding you to death like this, Ty! It shows I took what you said to heart.”

“This is different.”

“My ass it is,” Janna snapped. She saw a mild blink of shock shudder across his face and laughed. “What, you've never heard a woman say ‘ass' before? I seriously doubt that.”

“Say what you want, think what you want, and beg all you want,” was Ty's unequivocally cold reply. “But I'm not filling in for Duncan.”

“So that's that.”

“That's that.”

“No PR, ever, no exceptions.”

“No PR, ever, no exceptions,” he repeated, turning to go.

“You know, you are one hypocritical, heartless bastard,” Janna hissed to his departing back.

Ty stopped dead. Janna saw him take a deep, calculated breath before spinning back around to face her. When he did, there were storm clouds brewing in his eyes, black and dangerous.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said you're a hypocritical, heartless bastard,” Janna repeated, warming to her topic. He'd thrown the ball back to her, and like it or not, she was going to run with it. “Forget Kidco for a minute, okay, and let's discuss the team. You talk about how important it is to ‘give back' to the guys who work so hard for you. You treat them great, making sure everyone's happy, making sure the poor scared rookies fit in so the Blades are just one big, happy,
winning
family. But you know what, Ty? Every one of the guys on this team has a pretty cushy life. There isn't one of them who isn't pulling down at least a six-figure salary.

“Did it ever cross your mind that it might be nice to give something back to the community that makes all that possible? If it weren't for those fans that pay to see you play, you guys would be out of a job! How about giving back to the poor guy who can't read very well, so he goes to Literacy Volunteers, but in the meantime every spare cent he makes at his menial job goes to buying tickets to watch the Blades? Ever think of him? Or the hockey fans stuck in the hospital who can only watch games on TV? Do you have any idea what a difference a visit—one lousy, stinking hour of your life—could make? Your celebrity is a special resource. Why won't you use it? How can you not
care about
what goes on outside this locker room?!”

She reared back slightly, stunned and breathless from her outburst. Meanwhile, Ty stood with his hands on his waist, staring down at the floor. He was breathing hard, waves of resentment zigzagging off him, one after another after another. When he lifted his head, Janna could see he was furious, a vein in his left temple throbbing as he glowered at her.

“You have no idea what the hell you're talking about. Not only that, but what I choose to do, or not to do, is none of your goddamn business to comment on, never mind judge. I play
my guts out
on the ice for the fans every night. If that's not enough ‘giving back' for them—or for you—then that's just too damn bad. You got that?”

“Oh, I've got it, all right,” Janna replied bitterly. She straightened, buttoning up her blazer. “Thank you for your time,
Captain
Gallagher. It's certainly been illuminating, as they say.”

She spun on her heel and began walking away, head held high. This was the part where he was supposed to come after her and grab her arm and say, “Wait a minute, I didn't mean it, I'll help you, Janna.” But it didn't happen. Instead, all she heard was the sound of her own footsteps echoing down the hallway, and the locker room door slamming.

 

 

She was halfway
back to Lou when she suddenly remembered an item she'd read in “Page Six” of the
Post
the morning before: Wayne and Janet Gretzky were back in New York for a week visiting friends.

“Idiot!” she said to herself as she started to run toward the elevator, laughing.

By the time she reached her desk, she was panting, her fingers fumbling for her Palm Pilot, where she kept every phone number she knew or thought she might need. She and Janet Jones Gretzky were acquaintances. They'd taken a kickboxing class together at the New York Health & Racquet Club when the Gretzkys still lived in New York. Janna had gotten her a cameo on
The Wild and the Free
. “If you ever need any help with anything,” Janet had told her, “don't hesitate to give our publicist a call.”

Well, it was time to call in the favor. She found the number and, fingers crossed, dialed the number the wife of the Great One had given her. By the time she hung up the phone, nothing in the world mattered less than Ty Gallagher and his stupid refusal to help her out in a bind. Soaring on feelings of invincibility, she hurried downstairs to the street to hail a cab home.

Damn, I'm good!
she said to herself as she hopped into the back of the taxi.

And for the first time in a long time, she actually believed it.

 

 

The dinner was
being held at Tavern on the Green on Central Park West. The restaurant looked absolutely magical at night, the tiny white lights in the surrounding trees twinkling as limos, taxis, and private cars pulled up one by one to dispense guests who were dressed as if attending a ball. Janna was enchanted, the more so when she was escorted to the banquet room where the party was being held. With its glass walls, high-domed ceiling and shimmering Baccarat chandeliers, this room always reminded her of a wedding cake: light, airy, delicate. She gave herself a minute or two to enjoy her surroundings, listening to the light jazz being played by a young man at a white piano in the corner. Then she helped herself to a flute of champagne offered by a passing waiter and began to work the room.

Thanks to her previous job, she already knew a lot of the people in attendance and made a point of reconnecting with them, especially the magazine editors, to whom she blatantly pitched ideas for pieces on all the young, sexy players. An editor she knew from
Seventeen
seemed interested in a possible photo shoot with Lex or Michael Dante. Janna took her card and promised to call her on Monday. When there was a break in the action, she headed off in the direction of the Bull, who looked to be doing a great job of working the room himself, even if his hand did shoot out every time the waiter carrying the canapé tray breezed by.

“Happy?” she asked him.

“Happy? We've got Wayne freakin' Gretzky here! If I was sure I'd be able to get up again, I'd get down on the floor and kiss your tiny little toes.”

She squeezed his arm. “I aim to please.”

For forty minutes Janna made the rounds, her confidence genuine. She knew how to do this—knew how to schmooze, how to sell the Blades as a potentially active force in the community without pushing it. As a result, two individuals from two different community programs had agreed to work with the PR office on a charity event. As if that weren't reason enough to celebrate, people were going nuts over the Gretzkys' presence, and Lou hadn't spilled anything down the front of his tux. The only fly in the ointment was her oily coworker, Jack Cowley, who'd been shadowing her ever since he'd arrived. So far, Janna had managed to stay one step ahead of him and avoid contact. But when both Lex and the man she was chatting up from Hockey on the Hudson excused themselves to go the men's room, she was left defenseless and Cowley moved right in.

“Janna.” Even the purring way he said her name made all the tiny hairs on her arms stand up on end. “You've been a very hard lady to catch up with.”

“I'm working, Jack. You should try it sometime.”

He gave a hearty laugh phonier than a WWF match. Oblivious to the hint, his eyes slowly toured her body, making her wish she'd worn a potato sack, and not the tight, midnight blue sheath she relied on whenever she really had to play dress up.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “I've always said good things come in small packages.”

“Like diamonds and poison?” Janna replied sweetly.

“And such a dark horse, too,” he drawled on.

“I don't understand.”

“Telling us all that you could get Gretzky but not Gallagher, then getting them both. Nice surprise, Janna. Lou's going to love it.”

She turned her head, following Jack's gaze to the front of the banquet room. There, drop-dead handsome in a tux and looking like he owned the room, was Ty Gallagher.

And on his arm was her sister, Skyler.

Pain jackknifed through her but she refused to give in to it. “Listen, Jack, I have some other people I need to talk to,” she said hastily, politely pushing past him. The room felt like it was contracting. Ty would be looking for her, she knew he would, if only to say, “Look, I'm here, I did what you asked.”
Look, I'm here with your sister. Bastard!

She drained her champagne glass and reached for another. The temptation to guzzle it down, to anesthetize, was strong. What was that old saying? “Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it?” Well, God knows she'd wanted Ty Gallagher to cooperate and do some PR—but not like this, not with her beautiful, lissome sister in tow. Talk about a swift kick in the head. Ty and Skyler. How could she not know about this? She took another quick sip of bubbly for fortification and decided there was only one way to deal with it, and that was to launch a preemptive strike. She would go to them, endure small talk, and get it over with. Then she'd be free to carry on working the room until dinner was served. As if she could eat now. As if she'd be able to get through the rest of what would now be an absolutely interminable night without crying, vomiting, or both.

 

 

They'd spotted her
and were moving toward her through a sea of toned, impeccably dressed bodies. The handsome athlete and the gorgeous model.
How predictable,
Janna thought disdainfully. He really was like the rumors said, going for boobs over brains every time. Not that she gave a rat's—

“Hey, chickadee.” Skyler's voice carried so much genuine affection that for a minute, Janna almost felt guilty for all the times she wished her sister would suddenly pork up overnight. Calling on every ounce of control and composure she had, Janna returned her sister's dazzling smiling and reached up to kiss her on her flawlessly made up cheek.

“Hey, Stretch.”

She turned her attention to Ty. She had to admit, his expression was priceless. He was damn near slack-jawed with bafflement, his confused glance ping-ponging from Janna . . . to Skyler . . . back to Janna. “You two know each other?”

“We're sisters,” Janna answered coolly.

“Can't you tell?” Skyler joked.

“You don't really look much alike,” Ty observed carefully.

“No, she's tall and gorgeous and I'm short and plain,” Janna supplied gaily. Skyler laughed, clueless that she was the only one doing so. Her laughter seemed loud to Janna. Everything did. The music, the swirl of voices around them, all of it deafening. Perhaps she was about to faint. Meanwhile, Ty's eyes were burning into her retinas. What was he trying to convey? Embarrassment? An apology? Well, whatever it was, she didn't care.

Skyler's laughter—loud, endless, cloying—eventually faded away, leaving a hole in the awkward, hellish moment that Janna didn't have the energy to fill. Nor did Ty: the slack-jawed expression was gone, replaced by a look Janna interpreted as plain old discomfort. Skyler, as ever, was completely oblivious.

“So, what's on the menu?” she asked brightly.

I'm sure you are,
thought Janna. She flashed a big smile. “Don't know, baby sis. But I do know I have to run. I have a couple more people I have to corral before we sit down to eat. I'll catch up with you later!”

Feigning urgency, she flitted away into the crowd.
Excruciating. That had been excruciating
. Her eyes quickly scanned the room: Lou was with the editor from
Seventeen
.
Good
. Jack Cowley was staring down the cleavage of some poor unsuspecting woman on the board of Family and Children's Services.
Not good
. She was halfway across the crowded room, nearly home free, when she felt a strong, firm grip on her arm.

“Janna, wait.”

Damn!
She was close, so close, to escaping. Caught, she turned around to peer up into Ty's face. “Yes?” she asked impatiently.

“Your sister and me—it's not what you think.”

“I don't think anything.”

“Janna, please. I can tell you're upset.”

She thought fast. “I'm upset because you didn't let me know you were coming. If you had, I could have drummed up a lot more publicity for this event. Then again, with Wayne Gretzky in the room, your being here is kind of redundant, know what I mean?”

Ty shook his head affectionately. “You're a pistol, you know that?”

“Yes, well, this little pistol still has some bullets left to shoot before dinner. You and Skyler have fun, okay?”

“Janna.” She went to bolt but there was a hint of entreaty in his voice that kept her rooted. “Skyler and I—”