A Perfect Strategy

If anyone deserved that happiness, it was Issy. Inseparable from the time they could crawl, Issy and Sapphie had grown up in a poor town in North Carolina. Because their parents had preferred partying over responsibility, the two friends had had to be the “grown-ups” in their respective households: looking after their siblings, making sure what little money their folks brought in kept a roof over their heads and food on the table.

When they’d escaped at eighteen, headed for college and better things, Issy had done everything she could to build a stable, financially secure life for herself, with the hope of settling down with a nice, responsible man to raise a family. Everything she hadn’t had as a child.

Sapphie deposited her empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and snagged a fresh drink. She sighed.

That definitely wasn’t the life Sapphie wanted. Marriage, kids, a mortgage—no way. She’d had enough of responsibility and commitment growing up and was determined never to be tied to any person or any place. She depended on no one but herself. She controlled her life and cherished her freedom.

Sapphie didn’t own an apartment but kept three serviced condos—one on each coast and another in Chicago—convenient pieds-à-terre for when she flew back and forth across the country to see her clients. No cleaning, no maintenance, no worries.

As for dating, Issy teased her about having “a guy in every port.” Not quite true, but Sapphie didn’t go out with any man for long. That way she didn’t encourage expectations that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, fulfill. Like the apartments, it suited her perfectly.

Sapphie pushed away from the pillar she’d been leaning against and sat at an empty table. The late nights she’d put in recently for her biggest client, Marty Antonelli—not to mention the red-eye she’d taken from LA to get here to help Issy with the party—were catching up with her. She had a room at the hotel until Monday and planned to take advantage of the spa to pamper herself.

Perhaps she’d sneak away and get an early night. Eight hours’ sleep sounded heavenly.

Taylor “Mad Dog” Madden sat beside her. “How soon can I cut out of here without offending the happy couple?”

The Ice Cats’ defenseman was a close friend and also one of J.B.’s groomsmen.

“I was wondering the same thing. Do you think we’re getting ol—” Sapphie broke off when she saw his face, tight with anger. “What’s put a bug up your butt?”

“Nothing.” He slammed his beer bottle on the table, then stared out at the dance floor, arms crossed.

She followed his gaze and spotted a familiar, pretty blonde talking to a slight man with thinning dark hair. “Oh. Lizzie came with someone.”

“Apparently, she’s been dating him for a few weeks.” Taylor’s lip curled. “Pompous jerk. He keeps touching her ass.”

“And that’s your business, how?”

He tossed her an irritated look. “It isn’t. I just think he should have better manners.”

“Uh-huh. Not jealous, then.”

Taylor had a thing for Lizzie Martin, though he was loath to admit it. The pair had dated briefly, a few years ago. That had been before Sapphie had met Taylor last summer when she and Issy had taken a trip to Antigua to celebrate her thirtieth birthday. He and J.B. had been getting some R & R at the same resort. Sapphie and Taylor had hit it off straightaway.

Their time in the Caribbean had been fun, and once back home, they’d become friends with occasional benefits. There was never any thought of a serious relationship, on either side. More recently, they’d dropped the benefits and simply enjoyed each other’s company.

Sapphie wasn’t upset about his feelings for Lizzie. He was a good person and he deserved a good woman. Especially if she kept him on his toes.

“You don’t freaking slow-dance to Bon Jovi, idiot.” Drumming his fingers on the table, Taylor looked ready to storm the dance floor and yank Lizzie’s date away from her by the scruff of his neck.

“I think Lizzie made that point,” Sapphie said as the blonde moved out of her partner’s arms. “So relax.”

Taylor drained his beer. “I’m fine. As long as he stops pawing her in public.”

“Because you want to be the one who paws her.”

“No.” He sighed. “Yes. But that won’t happen. She’s mad at me for embarrassing her at the Cup celebration a few weeks ago. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time I open my mouth around her, I’m eating shoe leather. I don’t have that problem with you.”

“Because our relationship is simple.”

“Maybe we should date instead.”

“Right.” Sapphie rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to spoil what we have.”

“You’re right.” He sighed again.

“Go sort things out with Lizzie. Apologize, then ask her to dance.”

“Even if she accepts I’m sorry, I’m the last person she’ll want to dance with.”

“It’s not like you to give up because it’s tough.”

His lips twisted. “Me and Lizzie isn’t tough—it’s impossible.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She’d seen Lizzie surreptitiously watching Taylor. “Anyway, you’ve got nothing to lose by giving it a shot.”

“I guess. Anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” he grumbled good-naturedly.

“All the time. It’s how I earn my money. You’re lucky I don’t charge for my advice.”

“You’d be worth every penny.” He kissed her cheek, then stood. “Wish me luck.”

She held up crossed fingers. “You can do it.”

Taylor strode off purposefully, but his body language changed as he approached Lizzie. He was nervous.

Lizzie straightened the moment she saw Taylor heading toward her. Though Sapphie couldn’t hear what was said, the pair’s reactions were enough to get the gist of their conversation. As it grew more heated, Sapphie hoped Taylor would back off, but he didn’t. Soon Lizzie stalked out, with Taylor hot on her heels. It would end either in tears or with them tearing up the sheets. There was too much passion for anything else.

As Sapphie made her way across the room, she spotted Scotty Matthews at the bar, nursing a drink. Sapphie had always had a fan-girl crush on the former Ice Cats captain. Her favorite player since she’d started following the team, he’d been a powerhouse on the ice and, from what she’d heard, a great leader and a mentor in the locker room. He was a nice guy but hard to get to know. She’d seen him at several Ice Cats parties and he’d seemed pretty self-contained. Watching everything, saying little.

She’d found it hard to be her usual chatty self with him. He’d look at her with those serious blue eyes and she’d become tongue-tied. Because she’d never been fazed by a gorgeous man before, she’d assumed it was because he was older than her—in his early forties. Though he’d never said anything overtly disapproving, she’d felt she never quite measured up to his standards.

Tonight he looked lonely.

He’d obviously come to the reception on his own. She’d heard about his divorce last year; hard not to when it had been splashed across the media.

As if he felt her studying him, Scotty looked up and their gazes met.

There was something about the recently retired captain that drew her to him. His dark hair, flecked with gray, was still short, like it had been when he was playing. His tanned face bore the scars of his career. The one that had always fascinated her was the white line that marred his otherwise perfect lips. Left side, near the corner. The result of a high stick—one that hadn’t been penalized—it had taken twenty-five stitches to close the cut.

He gave a half smile, raised his glass to her, then returned his attention to his drink.

Suddenly, she wanted to make that half smile full-blown.

Sapphie sauntered to the bar and settled on the stool next to him. She was pleased to notice him checking out her legs as she crossed them.

“I suppose a dance is out of the question, Captain?” Her question came out slightly husky, giving it an unintentionally sultry note.