Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) (7 page)

Reese, as he insisted they call him, had been nothing but
surprises. As had his companion, the estimable Mr. Rupert Smythe. From the
moment they shook hands in the foyer, it was clear Mr. Smythe wasn’t just
Lamont’s business manager. He was also Reese’s best friend.

So here they were, in the Billiards Room—she hadn’t known
those existed outside the game of
Clue
—watching Reese and Garrick try to
whomp each other, both now long past the realization that no one would be
hustling anyone.

Savannah stood next to the bar with Rupert, sipping her beer
and laughing at the banter between the two men and Rupert’s dry commentary on
his friend’s strategy. The atmosphere was friendly, though an undercurrent existed
that she had been trying to put her finger on since dinner.

Garrick smiled up at Reese, his cheeks pink from wine and
laughter, and winked at their host. She almost choked on her beer as she
finally figured it out.

Garrick was flirting. With
Lamont
.

Their host didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

She laughed at yet another surreal twist to their evening. Rupert
grinned. She was more uncertain than ever about what the hell was going on, but
she couldn’t deny she was having a good time.

When Garrick’s intended—and supposedly insane—double-banked
shot struck the twelve and pocketed it in the corner, Savannah whooped.

“Determined is right. Reese, my friend, you’re going down,”
Rupert said.

 “Thank you so much for your support,” Reese said dryly.

Rupert lifted his wine in salute. “What friends are for?”

Reese harrumphed and stepped out of the way as Garrick
walked around the table to take his next shot. He took aim, but Reese leaned
against the bumper, putting himself in the way. Garrick stood, the cue sliding
through his fingers to rest on the floor, and cocked his head.

“Why are you here?” Reese asked, not unkindly, but with a
hint of suspicion.

Garrick opened his mouth, twice, before snapping it closed.

Rupert put his glass down on the bar and muttered, “Always
was a bad loser.”

Reese waited patiently for Garrick’s answer.

“I’d like to speak with you about the Ice Cats.” Garrick’s
voice was calm, but she knew him well enough to know he was nervous. He wasn’t
moving.

“I’m selling them, as I’m sure you know,” Reese said coolly.

Savannah stepped forward. “I heard you were thinking about
shutting us down.”

Reese and Rupert exchanged a quick look and her heart sank. It
was true.

“It seems your management hasn’t been discreet.” Anger
heated Reese’s voice.

“No,” she said quickly, “it was me. I mean, I was
eavesdropping and I overheard a conversation I wasn’t privy to.”

Reese’s shoulders went down a fraction, but he still looked
pissed. His face remained neutral. Rupert’s too. But there was something there,
the flirtation gone, their gazes narrow.

 “Why would you shut us down?” Garrick asked, sounding more
curious than angry.

She had to give him credit. It was difficult to reconcile
this stone-faced Reese with the warm and funny host they’d laughed with not two
minutes prior.

“I don’t really have a choice. We’ve been losing money for a
while. I had hoped Mark would be able to turn things around, but there has been
little improvement.” He went on to detail what they’d tried. The marginal
successes, the outright failures. His recitation was clinical, though not
without compassion. Savannah found little comfort that he obviously didn’t want
to put people out of work, since he wasn’t going to let that change what was,
to him, a business decision.

Garrick listened, nodding occasionally and giving Reese his
undivided attention. Then he started asking questions.

Savannah smiled, silently cheering on Garrick as he tacked
Reese down at every turn.
Just a hockey player, my ass.
He countered
each issue with a suggestion. If it had been tried, he offered an alternative. If
it was glossed over, he picked it apart. Reese took it well, rising to the debate,
his responses getting more passionate. He referred to Rupert for facts and
figures. Rupert was not just a business manager in title, but an absolute wizard
with numbers and statistics. His memory for the details was impressive,
bordering on frightening. The man could quote, with confidence, the smallest
minutia about the team and its finances.

During one of his recitations, Savannah realized Rupert was subtly
supporting Garrick’s arguments, not Reese’s.

“Do
you
think the Ice Cats can be made profitable?”
she asked Rupert, cutting into the conversation.

All eyes turned to him. He glanced at Reese, who rolled his
eyes but remained silent.

“Yes,” Rupert admitted, his voice quiet compared to the heated
debate seconds before. “I do.”

“How?” she asked.

“He doesn’t know,” Reese said, his smile kind. He turned
back to Garrick. “He actually had already argued most everything you have as
far as the arena and how to expand its markets.”

Garrick smiled at Rupert. “Great minds.”

“But,” Reese continued before the men could bond over their
shared ideas, “he admits that in order for the team, as well as the arena, to
be more profitable, there would need to be some changes.”

Garrick’s brows drew in. “What kind of changes?”

“You need to win more. A championship.”

Garrick winced. The Cats did all right, but they hadn’t won
a championship in all the time Garrick had been on the team, nor for almost a
decade before that.

Reese nodded, smug. He clearly believed he’d just dealt the
coup de grâce.

Savannah couldn’t let it stand. She stepped forward.

“That’s completely doable.”

Everyone turned to Savannah.

She crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly in the
face of three disbelieving stares. When she shifted her weight over one leg,
the other stretched endlessly to one side.
God
, Garrick thought,
those
legs are amazing.

He tore his gaze away before he rightly earned the caveman
label.

“The team could win more, but you’ll have to invest,” she
informed Reese. She lifted one eyebrow and pinned Reese with her bright green
stare, daring him to dismiss her.

Garrick smiled. The legs were great, sure, but they weren’t
the best part.

Reese shifted, crossing
his
arms and returning her
challenge. “Every time I invest in someone new and expensive, I lose them to
the NHL or one of their feeder teams, Ms. Morrison. It can be profitable, but
not sustainable for building a championship team.”

“You don’t need better players,
Mr. Lamont
. You need
better talent management. You need to cut your dead weight and invest in better
training, management, and coaching.”

“
Excuse me
?” Reese’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his
perfectly trimmed hair.

 “You’re counting too much on the raw talent,” she
explained, “and not enough on the people who can and will develop that talent
if you let them. What you need is discipline. If you get it, you can build a
winning team that also generates NHL talent—two profitable outcomes for you.”

Reese’s huff of laughter was somewhere between patronizing
and insulting. Garrick forced himself to remain silent, confident Savannah
could still fight and win this battle.

“You don’t believe me?” Savannah said with a little smile. “Fair
enough. How about an example? You kept the last trainer on board even though he
did jack-shit to strengthen your players, and in some cases made systematic
errors that probably shortened their careers.”

Rupert’s mouth fell open.

Garrick grinned. He was actually getting a little turned on.
She was magnificent.

“Look at Sanders,” she went on. “He was gold in the net and
gone by twenty-five because he had no stamina. No discipline. And Gorensky, who
practically limped out of Moncton, only to go on and kick ass in Vancouver
after proper rehabilitation and a move to special teams to maximize his talents.”

Rupert and Reese appeared slack-jawed as they continued to
stare at Savannah. If either of them so much as insinuated that a woman
shouldn’t be taking them to school about how to run a good hockey team, Garrick
would happily punch them in the nose.

Savannah glanced at him, her eyes widening when she noticed his
wide smile. He winked at her. Her lips twitched before she turned back to their
hosts.

In the blink of an eye, she launched into a complete
breakdown of the current team—each player, their strengths, their weaknesses. Then
the coaches. She strode across the room and they parted like the Red Sea before
following in her wake, gathering in front of the dart board. She used the
scoreboard chalk to draw out special team weaknesses in crisp white on green.

Garrick wanted to laugh. Fuck, he had a raging hard-on now.

Reese and Rupert were a rapt audience, asking questions that
proved she’d long-since dispelled any doubts about her acumen for the business.
She had them hooked and was slowly reeling them in.

Arguing with Lamont had been exhilarating and Garrick could
see the same thrill in the flush on Savannah’s cheeks, the light of
determination in her eyes. He knew what he and Savannah argued made sense. These
were sound options. Maybe he didn’t have the business-side experience, but he’d
watched the business of hockey for a long time and done his homework. Read the
articles, the analysis, watched which teams flourished and which failed. He’d
always been curious why and tried to find the answers.

He could only hope Reese Lamont would listen to what he’d
learned.

Savannah was winding down her arguments, having now fully
detailed the weaknesses of their key rivals—and damned if Garrick didn’t feel
stupid for not seeing so much of this before now—when she turned back to her
audience and paused.

Rupert immediately went to her side. “That was fantastic!”

She smiled.

“It certainly is a lot to consider,” Reese allowed,
thoughtful.

She shot Garrick a nervous glance.

“Are you thirsty?” Rupert asked.

She put a hand to her throat. “Yes. I left my beer on the
bar.”

“It’s gone warm by now. I’ll get you a fresh one.” Rupert strode
to the bar with Reese close behind.

The minute their backs were turned, Garrick threw his arms
around Savannah and lifted her into a great big bear hug. He didn’t even care
if she felt the steel bar in his pants.

He let go and she stumbled back, blinking.

He just grinned and jammed a hand in his pocket to hide the
evidence of just how fond he was of her at this moment.

Reese called from behind the bar. “What are you having,
Savannah?”

She looked at him blankly.

“What do you want to drink?” Garrick prompted softly, trying
not to chuckle at her bemusement.

“Oh. I uh…I love Moosehead.”

Garrick looked at the ceiling, schooling his features, but a
snort still escaped.

“What?” she asked.

Reese’s groan carried from behind the bar. Rupert rolled his
eyes as he delivered the beer.

“What?” she asked again.

Garrick sighed, resigned, and smiled down at her. “How can you
tell that someone loves Moosehead?”

She looked at him, adorably confused. “How?”

“Antler marks on their thighs.”

Garrick held Savannah’s jacket for her. She didn’t bother to
protest the chivalry. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she looked around the
Lamont foyer one more time before she turned back to Garrick and buttoned up.

 “Really? Moose head?” She shook her head.

 “It’s a rite of passage,” Garrick said. “Every New
Brunswicker has to tell someone that joke at least ten times in his life or his
citizenship is revoked.”

She chuckled. “Oh really? I’ll have to bear that in mind as
the single most compelling reason I’ve heard to date for
not
applying
for citizenship.”

Garrick was still grinning when Rupert and Reese arrived to
say goodnight. They all shook hands. She genuinely hoped to see them again—and
not at the official sale or dismantling of the Ice Cats.

“Will you think about what we said?” Garrick asked, his hand
still clasping Reese’s.

Reese nodded. “I will. Though, to be fair, I should tell you
that if a reasonable offer comes in, I’m going to take it.”

Hope and frustration were a familiar mix of emotions tonight.
He wasn’t talking about shutting them down, at least, but Savannah wanted more.
A renewed commitment from Reese. A new owner would bring a host of unknowns, though
at least it would mean jobs for them and a lot of other people for a while
longer.

“Thanks,” Garrick said.

“Yes, thank you,” she added. “For listening. And for a
lovely night. I hope we see you again soon.”

Reese’s warm smile slipped, his brow drawing down. Her heart
ached at his obvious confusion, and only then did she remember that this man
reportedly never left his house. They had been having such a lovely evening,
and he’d been such a gracious host, she’d completely forgotten.
Why ever
would a man as handsome and charming as Reese sequester himself?

Reese regained his composure, his momentary lapse only
evident in the now-visible lines around his eyes. His smile returned, albeit
tentatively. “I hope you’ll consider coming to see us again next time you’re in
town.”

Rupert abruptly stopped speaking to Garrick and peered at
Reese as if he’d grown an additional head.

“We’d like that,” she said.

 “Wonderful,” Reese said, shooting a dirty look at the still
wide-eyed Rupert before ushering them to the door. “Hodges will see you back to
your hotel. Good luck at your game tomorrow night.”

They’d accepted the offer of a lift back into town from Reese
when the hour had grown late and their town car had been ready to go off-shift.
She hadn’t really thought Reese would drive them himself, of course, but the
sleek black limo and liveried driver hadn’t been expected either.

With a final wave, she and Garrick slipped through the door
and into the waiting car. She climbed in first, sliding across the soft leather
seat to make room for Garrick. The door clicked shut behind him and sealed them
into a warm cocoon.

Garrick turned to her in the intimate darkness and something
tightened deep in her core. She’d been harmlessly flirting with all three men
most of the night and hadn’t given it a moment’s thought until Garrick had
hugged her in the billiards room. She’d felt his erection against her hip and
her blood had heated, running thick through her veins. She’d struggled to
recover her composure, grateful for jokes about fellatio-performing moose to distract
her.

Until now.

“Thank you.” His voice was soft, rough along her skin.

She clamped down on her body’s betrayal and scolding herself
for being foolish.

Crossing her legs, she shivered as her bare thighs skimmed over
lacy stocking tops. The press of her tightly clenched legs did nothing to stop
her growing need.

God, what is the matter with me?
She stared at her
hand clutching the leather seat between them and counted her breaths.

The heat in the car was high, forcing back the bitter cold
outside and carrying the scent of Garrick’s cologne. She wanted to bury her
face in the crook of his neck and inhale deeply, until she was dizzy from the
heady musk hiding beneath the smooth hint of pine.

He watched her, no doubt waiting for her response, hopefully
unaware of how ferocious it truly was.

She met his gaze, determined to say
you’re welcome
or
something equally inane and nothing like
touch me please
. The words
wouldn’t come. Not even the plea, though she suspected he could see it written
in every line of her face.

She felt drunk, but her spinning head had nothing to do with
the two beers she’d sipped, and everything to do with her pounding pulse and
swelling body. Warm liquid arousal pooled between her thighs.

He was forbidden fruit. Untouchable by her own rules, and
yet had proven more desirable than any man she’d known. He was her friend.
Trusted.

And fucking beautiful.

She saw the questions in his patient eyes. Was aware of how
unlike his nature it was for him to sit so still. It didn’t take a glance at
the increasingly poor fit of his trousers to know he held back. It was just
there, on his face, in his gaze.

She turned away, her eyes fixed on the blank wall of the
privacy screen. They were alone, behind dark tinted windows and thick sound-proof
barriers, shielded from the rest of the world.

A small pocket of time and space all to themselves.

It was this thought, this reckless belief that she could
steal a few minutes from a life, a career, a friendship that should prevent her
from stealing any such thing, that made her turn back to Garrick.