Trapped With The Maverick Millionaire

Rory placed her hands on the bed and leaned forward, brows snapping together. “Why are you doing this, Mac? You have enough money, enough accolades to allow you to sit out a couple of months, a couple of seasons. This is not only unnecessary, it’s downright idiotic!”

Mac pulled in a deep breath. For a split second she thought that he might explain, that he’d give her a genuine, responsible reason for his stance. Then his eyes turned inscrutable and she knew it wouldn’t happen. “I play. That’s what I do.”

Rory shook her head, disappointed. He was still the same attention-seeking, hot-dogging, arrogant moron he’d been in his twenties. Did he really believe the hype that he was indispensable and indestructible?

“You’re ridiculous, that’s what you are,” Rory said as she straightened. She sent his friends a blistering look. “You’re supporting him in this?”

Kade and Quinn nodded, reluctantly, but they still nodded. Right, so it seemed like she was the only clear thinker in the room. She had to try one more time. “It’s one season! You’d probably not even miss the entire season...”

Mac looked resolute. “I have to be there, Rory.”

Mac had a will of iron. He was going to play, come hell or high water. She wouldn’t be able to change his mind.

“It’s my choice and I’ll live with the consequences,” Mac told her. “I’m not the type to create a storm and then bitch when it rains.”

There was no doubting the sincerity in his words. Now, responsibility was something her father had never grasped, she thought. He’d been a serial adulterer and when he got caught—and he always got caught—there were a million reasons why it wasn’t his fault. And, really, why was she thinking about her father? Honestly, woman, concentrate!

She might not agree with what Mac wanted to do, it was a colossal mistake in her professional opinion, but it seemed he was prepared to accept the consequences of his decisions. She had to respect that. But didn’t have to be party to his madness.

She dropped her eyes from his face to look at the control box. “There’s still twenty minutes to go. I’ll ask Troy to disconnect the mat and pack it away. Have a nice life.”

Rory turned around and walked toward the door, thinking that her bosses at Craydon’s Physiotherapy would throw a hissy fit if they found out she’d turned down the opportunity to treat the great Mac McCaskill.

A part of her wanted to stay, to carry on trying to convince him—them—why this was the stupidest plan in history. But you’re not the jackass whisperer, her brain informed her.

She had her hand on the door when Mac spoke again. “Rory, dammit...wait!”

Rory turned and saw the silent conversation taking place between the three friends. Kade nodded, Quinn looked frustrated but resigned and Mac looked annoyed.

Well, tough.

“Why can’t anything ever be easy with you?” he muttered, and Rory lifted an eyebrow. This from the man who’d dissed Shay on national television and created a public scandal with her sister at the center? Who’d—sort of—made a move on Rory, thereby causing a riff between her and Shay that took many months to heal? Seriously?

“It isn’t my job to make things easy for you,” Rory retorted. “If there’s nothing else...?”

“Hell yes, there’s a big something else!” Mac snapped. “And if you repeat it I’ll blow a gasket.”

Rory just stared at him. The Kydd girls didn’t blab. If they did they could’ve made themselves a nice chunk of change selling their Mac stories to the tabloids.

Mac rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand and proceeded to explain how his being hurt could materially affect the Mavericks. Rory listened, shocked, as Mac dissected the implications of his injury. “If Chenko buys the team, Kade will be replaced as CEO, Quinn’s coaching contract won’t be renewed and if I’m injured, I’m too old for them to give me another chance. The Mavericks will be turned into another corporate team—and I will not let that happen.”

Rory took a moment to allow his words to make sense. When they did, her jaw tightened. The Mavericks were a Vancouver institution that had been owned by the Hasselbacks for generations and she knew—thanks to listening to Troy’s rants on the subject over the years—that when corporate businesses took over sports teams, the magic dissipated. Traditions were lost; fans were disappointed; the players lost their individuality. It became soulless and clinical. She kept her eyes on Mac, pale-faced and stressed. “And if you do play?”

“Then we have a chance of saving the team.”

“How?” Rory demanded.

“It’s complicated, and confidential, but we need a particular type of partner, one who has the connections and skills in PR, merchandising, sponsorships. Even though we are retaining control, we are asking for a lot of money for a minor share and we have to accept that I am the face of the team and an essential part of the deal. I have to play.” Mac rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, his gesture indicating pain or frustration or exhaustion. Probably all three. “This isn’t about me, not this time. Or, at least, it isn’t all about me. If I could take the time off I would, I’m not that arrogant. But I need to get back on the ice and, apparently, you’re my best bet.”

Rory bit her bottom lip, knowing what he was asking was practically impossible. “The chance of you being able to play in two months’ time is less than ten percent, Mac. Practically nonexistent.”

“I can do it, Rory. You just need to show me how.”

She nearly believed him. If anybody could do it then it would be him.

“Mac, you could do yourself some permanent damage.”

Mac pressed his lips together. “Again, my choice, my consequences.”

God, why did that have to resonate so deeply with her? Okay, so this wasn’t all about him and his career. A part of it was, of course it was, but she knew how much the Mavericks meant to him. There had been many reports about the bond he shared with his mentor, the now dead owner of the team. The cheating dead owner of the Mavericks—dying in his mistress’s bed.

Don’t think about that, she told herself. With her history of a having a serial cheater for a father, it was a sure way to get her blood pressure spiking.

She had to disregard the emotion around this decision, try to forget he was attempting to save his team, his friends’ jobs and the traditions of the Mavericks, which were an essential part of the city’s identity. She had to look at his injury, his need and his right to treatment. If this were any other sportsman and not Mac, would she be trying to help him? Yeah, she would.

And really, if she didn’t help Mac, Troy might never speak to her again.

She nodded reluctantly. “Okay. I’ll help you, as much as I can.”

Mac, to her surprise, didn’t look jubilant or excited. He just looked relieved and wiped out. “Thank you,” he quietly said.

Rory turned to Kade. “You need to contact my office, sign a formal contract with my employers.”

Kade grimaced. “Yeah, that’s the other thing...we’d like to cut out the middleman.”

Rory lifted up her hands in frustration. Was nothing going to be simple today? “What does that mean?”

Kade jerked his head in Mac’s direction and Rory saw that his head was back against his pillow and his eyes were closed. “Let’s carry on this discussion outside and I’ll fill you in.”

“Why do I know that you’re about to complicate my life even further?” Rory demanded when they were standing in the passage outside Mac’s room.

“Because you are, obviously, a very smart woman,” Kade said, placing a large hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go get some coffee and we’ll sort this mess out.”

That sounded like an excellent idea since she desperately needed a cup of liquid sanity.

Three (#u5cede290-e6d5-54f3-a916-02b7926c0f6e)

Rory walked into the diner situated around the corner from St. Catherine’s Hospital and scanned the tables, looking for her best friend. It had only been an hour since Kade had laid out his terms, and she needed Troy to talk her off the ledge...

Dressed in skinny jeans and a strappy white crop top, she ignored the compliments coming from a table of construction workers on her left. She waved at Troy and smiled at grumbles behind her when they saw her breakfast companion—huge, sexy and, not that they’d ever realize it, gay. With his blond hair, chiseled jaw and hot bod, he had guys—and girls—falling over him and had the social life of a boy band member.

Unlike her who, according to Mr. Popular, partied like a nun.

Troy stood up as she approached and she reached up to place a kiss on his cheek. He’d changed out of his uniform into jeans and a T-shirt but he still looked stressed.

“Rough night? Is Mac being a pain in your backside?” she asked him.

“He’s not a problem at all. I was at the home until late. My mom had a bad episode.”