Body Check (7 page)

A blast of rock music coming from an open window on the second floor caught Janna's attention.

“I see the birthday boy is home,” she said to her father.

He glanced up at the screened window, a look of unmistakable displeasure crossing his face. “He calls that music.”

“Careful,” she teased, patting his arm. “Your age is showing.” Her father sighed, shaking his head, and returned happily to digging in the dirt.

Janna headed inside to wish her baby brother, Wills, a happy birthday. The last of the MacNeil children, he was twelve today, the age gap between him and his sisters sizable. Janna's mother claimed he'd been “an accident,” but Janna and her sisters all concurred that having Wills had been their parents' last-ditch attempt at trying to save their marriage—an attempt that had failed, leaving poor Wills to grow up alone in the big Georgian house with two warring parents. His solo status filled Janna with guilt. At least she, Petra and Skyler all had each other when things got rough. Wills had no one, which was why Janna made an extra effort to call and see him whenever she could. It was her way of letting him know that she was there for him, even if they didn't live under the same roof.

Inside the house, her mother sat in the huge country kitchen chatting away on the portable phone. She gave a distracted wave as Janna popped the cake she'd baked for Wills in the fridge. Before heading upstairs to see her brother, she detoured to the back patio to say hello to her sisters, both of whom she knew were there thanks to the twin Mercedeses parked in the drive. Petra sat poolside in shorts and a T-shirt, engrossed in a book.
Pet and her books,
Janna thought affectionately.
Why did she become a lawyer when what she really should have been was a writer?
Skyler was poolside, too, her tanned, perfect body barely covered in a hot pink, crocheted bikini. Predictably, Skyler was a model. A very successful model, too. Janna loved her big sister Petra, but Skyler was another story. Shallow, vain, judgmental, she reminded Janna of their mother. Janna's fervent hope was that Skyler would wake up the morning of her 30th birthday to find herself the size of Pavarotti. She knew it wasn't nice, but Skyler was so damn gorgeous that Janna had no choice but to occasionally
hate
her for it, certain that every other normal looking woman in America occasionally felt the same way, too.

She chatted with them for a few minutes before leaving to check up on Wills. Her parents' house reminded her of a museum: everything in its place, the climate carefully controlled, all hints of the combative, turbulent lives being lived there artfully concealed. Except for Wills. Though the music blasting from his room
was
earsplittingly loud, at least it signaled some sense of vitality the rest of the house lacked. Janna literally pounded on his bedroom door, knowing there was no way he'd hear her if she knocked politely.

The door flew open, and there he stood, his face breaking into a wide smile revealing two tidy, gleaming rows of braces, his head bopping up and down to the music. Like Janna, he was small, but he had his father's sturdy build and dark coloring. “Hey,” he said, playfully punching her arm.

“Hey, yourself,” she half shouted at him. “Can I come in?”

He stood aside to let her enter. Janna didn't want to appear uncool in his eyes, but the music was so loud the floor was shaking. She gestured towards the CD player, wincing apologetically. “Could you—?”

“Wuss.” Wills turned down the stereo.

“Thanks.”

Janna gazed around the four walls of the messy room. Every inch of available space was covered with pictures of either Britney Spears and Christine Aguilera, or posters of Wills's sports heroes. There was Mark McGwire standing at home plate, and Michael Jordan three feet off the ground in the middle of a slam dunk, and—

Ty Gallagher, holding a place of honor above the head-board of Wills's bed.

Janna turned to him. “When did you get that?”

“Last week.” Wills flopped down on his stomach on the bed. “Dad said you work with him. Is that true?”

“Yup.”

“Can I meet him?” There was no hiding the excitement in his voice.

Janna hesitated.

“Pleeeasse?” Wills begged.

Janna cleared away some dirty laundry and sat down on the edge of the bed. “All right,” she promised, images of Ty telling her and her punky brother to take a hike dancing through her head.

“Yes!” Wills pumped his fist in the air. “I knew there was a reason you were my favorite sister.”

“I thought it was because I baked you a double chocolate brownie cake for your birthday.”

“Double yes!” Wills exclaimed. He looked at his sister with outright adoration. “You rule.”

“I try.” Janna's eyes kept drifting to the bright color poster of Gallagher on the ice, his expression fierce. He looked so—manly. Intense. Like some kind of warrior, not at all like the arrogant, uncooperative jerk she knew him to be. She tore her eyes away, focusing her attention on her brother.

“So, how does it feel to be twelve?”

Wills shrugged. “Dunno. The same.”

“What did Mom and Dad give you?”

“New hockey skates,” Wills recited, bored. “New skate-board.” He shrugged again. “Stuff.”

Stuff
, Janna thought, her throat growing thick with words she longed to give voice to but knew she couldn't. That had always been her parents' way: to ply their kids with stuff, a way to assuage their guilt over not being able to give their children the important things, so caught up were they in their own drama.

“How's it been around here lately?” Janna asked quietly. She watched as her brother flipped over on his back and stared up at the ceiling, his hands folded on his stomach in repose.

“The same,” he said evasively. “You know.”

The same meaning their mother having one cocktail too many before dinner then tearing into their father, telling him she married beneath her. Both of them yelling about working-class this and hoity-toity that. Shanty Irish. Ice Princess.
My God,
Janna despaired. Didn't they care how it affected Wills? Then again, why should they? They didn't care how it affected her and her sisters.

She ruffled his hair, a gesture he obviously thought he was now too old for as he jerked his head away. “Sorry,” she apologized. “Look, you know you can come stay with me anytime. I mean it. Or call me.”

He turned to her, hopeful. “If I stay with you, can I meet Ty Gallagher?”

“How 'bout this.” Janna thought a moment. “How 'bout you come home with me tonight, and tomorrow morning, I take you to a Blades practice with me and you can meet the guys?”

Wills jumped up. “You can do that? Really?”

“Sure I can do that,” Janna assured him, her heart filling with happiness as she saw the excited, little boy expression on his face.

“And I can get autographs and stuff?”

“Yup.”

“And a picture of me with Ty?”

“We can try.”

“You're the best!” He hopped off the bed, impulsively kissing the side of her face. “Wait till I tell the guys about this!” He was halfway out the room to call his friends when he halted, rounding on Janna again. “Can I bring my skates? Can I skate on the same ice as them after they're done?”

“I'll check with my boss,” she said carefully. “But I don't think it will be a problem.”

Whooping with delight, he tore out into the hallway and down the stairs. Alone now, Janna rose, turning back to the image of Ty above the bed. God, he was handsome, even with sweat dripping from his brow and his body bent forward in an attack position, ready to blast a puck down the ice. But so what? It wasn't his looks she cared about right now. It was his heart. She hoped that beneath his surly exterior, he could find it within himself to be nice to a kid, even if that kid did happen to be her brother. Because if he wasn't . . .

 

 

Doing PR had
perks, and here was the proof: sitting rinkside, she was watching her baby brother watch the Blades practice. Wills's eyes never left Ty; everything he did was pronounced the best, the greatest, the most amazing.
That's what you think,
Janna thought, knowing she'd have to go into the locker room after practice and try, once again, to talk Captain Stubborn into putting in some face time for a good cause. But when Ty glided past them and flipped a puck over the Plexiglas to Wills, Janna's stance softened ever so slightly. He might not want to deal with her, but he clearly cared about making a young fan happy. The least she could do was give him credit for that.

Watching him, Janna tried to see Ty through the eyes of her brother, the fans, and his teammates. To her brother, he was a sports God whose courage and determination had helped him carve out a spot in athletic history. Fans loved him because he was larger than life, a legendary player and proven winner who had delivered the Stanley Cup to New York and seemed poised to do so again. His teammates loved him for the same reason and more: he was their leader, but he was also their friend, someone who genuinely cared about them individually. Lou had told her a story about a rookie who'd come to the Blades midseason and was being put up in a hotel. Gallagher invited the young player to stay with him instead, and even helped him find an apartment. Janna's jaw had hit the floor when she heard that; she had a hard time reconciling the egotistical jock she'd been dealing with to this softie who supposedly had a heart. Who
was
this guy?

Practice over, Wills began lacing up his skates, eager for the chance to tell his friends that the blades of his Bauers had actually touched the same ice as those of Ty Gallagher. Janna's plan was to let him skate a few laps to get it out of his system, then bring him into the locker room with her and introduce him to the players. Usually, Gallagher was one of the first off the ice and into the shower. Today, however, he was the last, and was in fact skating at an easy pace toward Janna and Wills, prompting Wills's eyes to nearly double in size and Janna's gut to shrivel into a tight, defensive knot.

“Hi,” he said through the Plexiglas to Wills. “I'm Ty.”

“I—” Wills halted, too dumbfounded to speak. He turned to his sister.
Is this really happening?
his gaze asked.

“It's okay,” Janna cooed under her breath, gently redirecting his gaze back to Ty, who seemed unfazed by her brother's sudden dumbness. If anything he looked vaguely sympathetic.

“You must be Janna's brother,” Ty continued smoothly, his expression amiable as he took both of them in. “I can see a resemblance.”

Wills just swallowed.

“This is Wills,” Janna said warmly, putting her arm around her brother and giving his shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze. “He turned twelve yesterday.”

“Happy Birthday,” said Ty.

“Thank you,” Wills managed in a whisper.

Ty pointed to the skates on Wills's feet. “You play hockey?”

Wills nodded.

Ty's head bobbed in approval. “Good man. It's the only sport that matters. You want to do a few laps with me, pass the puck?”

This time Janna and Wills both went wide-eyed.

“Ty,” Janna began, trying to keep the astonishment in her voice at bay, “you don't have to do that.”

“I know. But I want to.” He flashed Wills an encouraging smile. “You game?”

“Yeah,” said Wills, awed.

“There's just one condition.”

Of course,
thought Janna bitterly.
I knew this was too good to be true
.

“If I miss a pass, you can't tell a soul. I do have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

Wills grinned, and looking to Janna once more for reassurance, joined his hero on the ice. He was nervous at first, and seemed unsure of his footing, but gradually he loosened up. Janna couldn't hear what Ty was saying to him, but whatever it was, it was making her brother smile and laugh. Janna was moved. When was the last time she heard her baby brother laugh like that, so carefree and happy? They skated, taking turns at playfully checking each other into the boards, passing the puck back and forth between them. It gradually dawned on Janna that right now, she wasn't seeing Ty Gallagher as his fans saw him, or as her brother saw him, or as his teammates saw him.

She was seeing him as a woman sees a man, one who could, if permitted, cross the line from periphery to potential. She saw a strong man, one who cared and whose convictions ran as deep as his emotions obviously did. Someone willing to take the time to make a young boy happy; a man whom a woman could imagine . . .

She stopped herself right there. What was she thinking?! The man out there charming her brother to death on the ice was the bane of her professional existence. Not only that, but he was a jock—uneducated, egotistical, probably sexist, too, if you scratched his surface, which she certainly didn't want to do! No, she'd stick to Robert, cerebral, pretentious, unmotivated Robert. Safe Robert. At least thinking about him didn't whip up feelings deep inside her that were scary as hell. That had to count for something, right? But exactly
what
it counted for, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

 

 

 

 

Being nice to
her kid brother had been a mistake. Ty could see that now.

It was the end of October, a month into the official season, and ever since he'd made the kid's day by giving him a few minutes of ice time, along with signing an autograph and posing for a picture or two, Janna the Human Terrier had been on him, relentlessly cajoling and wheedling and pleading and begging and bargaining, trying to get him to show his face at an event,
any
event.