Page 23

‘You talk very highly of the twins,’ Astrid said to Stella who’d taken Ezra’s place behind Coach’s desk.

They had a big function underway in the exec suites today and Coach had kindly offered up his space as a base.

It was a ‘busy’ room, the rapid pace of the hockey world everywhere you looked.

From the whiteboard marked up with game formations, to the posters, team schedules, books, trophies, hockey gear, to the screens showing the current NHL standings, player stats, and latest news, it was a hive of activity.

‘Of course,’ Stella said with a smile. ‘And I hope you will too.’

Astrid nodded. ‘I get the impression this isn’t just business for you, that you have a real passion for the sport.’

The woman had talked nonstop about hockey and the twins from the moment she’d walked in, her eyes alive with a genuine excitement for it all.

‘Oh yes, I’ve been hockey mad since I was a girl. It’s in my blood. My father is the coach for the Michigan Warriors.’

Much like the Titans, the Warriors led the pack when it came to the NHL standings. ‘You didn’t fancy working for them too?’

‘Heavens no, you can have a little too much father and daughter time, you know?’

No, Astrid didn’t, but she nodded anyway.

‘I’m going to be honest with you,’ Stella said, her eyes suddenly narrowing, ‘when your request first came across my desk, I was a little suspicious…’

The hairs on Astrid’s neck prickled. ‘Suspicious?’

‘Sure. You haven’t worked in the world of ice hockey before and you don’t come across as a fan, and it all begged the question, why? Why hockey? Why us? Why the twins?’

Astrid resisted the urge to wriggle in her seat.

‘I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I was concerned the well-meaning pitch was a front for something else.’

Gulp. ‘Like what?’

‘Something more’ – Stella licked her lips – ‘destructive.’

Astrid frowned. ‘I meant it when I said I won’t print anything you and the twins don’t sign off on.’

‘Oh, I know.’ Stella waved a nonchalant hand.

‘Though these things have a habit of getting leaked… but I’m not worried about that.

Not any more. Not with you. I like you. I think the twins like you.

And I did my due diligence before I let you in the door.

You’re one hell of a writer, fair and just, and your articles shine.

I trust you to make our boys shine too.’

Astrid felt her chest puff up at all the praise, suppressing the nervous wriggle that continued to writhe. She took a sip of water. ‘Thank you.’

‘But make no mistake, Ms Sinclair, ruin them and I’ll ruin you.’

Astrid choked on the water, her eyes popping.

‘Sorry.’ Stella gave a tiny laugh. ‘My dad calls it my Rottweiler streak. It comes out when I need it.’

‘No apology necessary,’ Astrid assured her, admiration swelling despite the threat of being potential dog fodder. ‘It’s good to know you care about them that much.’

‘I do. Both professionally and personally. It’s hard not to.’

Astrid placed her glass down and took up her notepad. Every question was crossed off save for the last.

‘So to round off the interview, do you have any last words to sum them up?’

She smiled. ‘Well Aiden’s Aiden. I mean, look at the guy. All charm and professionalism. A true figurehead for the franchise. He keeps the team in line and leads by example both on and off the ice.’

‘And Blake?’

‘Bad boy rep aside, that man’s passion outshines the rest. Whether it’s making game-changing plays or mentoring our younger players, he’s an all-round all-star.’

No hesitation. No publicity spiel. Just her honest truth and it tallied with everything Astrid had heard that day, with Coach, with Ezra…

It had been one thing to hear the respect Coach had for them, another to hear it from Ezra.

She knew some guys could be real arseholes to those ‘lower down the ranks’ but the twins were anything but.

And now she was in conversation with Stella, a woman who would sooner claw her eyes out than let her print a bad word in their name.

‘Do you think it’s Blake’s passion that gets him into trouble?’

‘Are we talking on or off the rink now?’

‘That depends, are we talking about sport in both cases?’

Stella pursed her lips, her blue eyes sparkling as she leaned in close…

‘Between you and me, and off the record?’

Astrid cleared her throat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable as she paused her recording. ‘Okay.’

‘Blake has a way with women, you know. Well, they both do. Though I can’t speak from personal experience when it comes to his brother…’

‘But you can with Blake?’ And why did that stick in her throat so much? Stella was an attractive woman. Blake was an attractive man. It shouldn’t be a surprise.

But from a professional standpoint… Like you have any right to judge her, almost-kissy-wissy-karma-seeking-hypocrite!

‘Don’t get me wrong though, it never means anything more than what it is, a bit of fun, you know. He’s honest about it. Brutally so. And I respect that.’

And how the hell was the woman spinning this into a positive?

‘Isn’t it a conflict of interest, sleeping with a player?’

‘Not the way he does it. No strings, just fun. No one can get hurt, right?’

Her tummy twisted. ‘Right… well, I think that’s us done.’

She closed her notebook and popped her phone on top, all too keen to get out of there and give herself a slap.

‘Already?’

‘I think you’ve given me plenty to work with.’

‘Are you sure? I can knock up a few more quotes for you, give you some extra juice to work with…’

‘It’s fine but thank you.’

‘No problem.’ She rose to her feet, her smile relentless. ‘If you’re done for the day, how about we hit a bar? We can debrief over a drink or two – my treat.’

Astrid made a show of checking her watch. ‘I’d love to, but I promised I’d meet a friend this evening.’

‘Another time then?’

A rap on the door came to her rescue and Coach popped his head in. ‘Can I just grab my jacket?’

‘Of course,’ Astrid said, ‘we’re all done here.’

‘Everything going okay?’ He directed the question at Stella.

‘I think so.’ She beamed at Astrid. ‘I believe we have an understanding, don’t we?’

Astrid matched her smile. The woman was fierce, and to be fair, everything Astrid would be in her position. ‘We sure do. Thank you so much for your time today. Both of you.’ She dropped her stuff into her bag and pulled on her coat. ‘I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening.’

‘Good night,’ Coach said.

‘And don’t be shy, Astrid,’ Stella called after her. ‘Let’s grab that drink sometime.’

‘Sure thing.’

She stepped out into the hallway, trying to get her bearings.

The place was a maze, but she knew there was a back way out somewhere around here.

She just had to find it. And she wasn’t going to risk asking Stella to point her in the right direction in case she insisted on accompanying her out and giving her anything more ‘off the record’.

Her phone pinged with a message as she moved off and she pulled it out, her heart doing a traitorous jig when it caught Blake’s name…

Blake

Aiden says you’re coming for dinner Tuesday. Heads up, he cooks like he’s feeding the whole bench and the reserves!

She couldn’t stop the gentle curve to her lips as she replied:

Astrid

Consider me warned. Does he have a favourite tipple?

Aiden had said no need to bring anything, but she never went to dinner empty-handed. Not even to Mum’s. And here she was going to theirs and she was… she was excited. Nervous but excited. And as conflicted as ever.

She passed by a wall of press shots, pausing over one of Blake. It had to be a few years old. He was grinning just like his brother beside him but the sense of caged masculinity gave her pause. The way his eyes suggested he was only a moment away from pouncing. Or bolting.

Was that what it had been like living with a father like his? Always knowing that you had to be ready to react, to run…?

She felt her heart contract, her eyes drifting to Aiden, same grin but his looked easy. Natural. Affable. But now she knew what that grin hid, and she felt for him. Felt for them both. And the more people told her, the more she liked.

Giving herself a long-overdue shake, she strode forth, straight into the locker room where the players’ shirts were hung over their seats. The Carters’ were front and centre. She automatically stepped up to them, her hand reaching for number 44 – Blake…

‘Lost, Twinkle Toes?’ an oh-so familiar voice asked into the quiet, the deep rumble setting her soul on fire.

She closed her eyes, took a breath and turned, preparing herself for Blake. But nothing could have prepared her for Blake, semi-naked and dripping wet, a team-embroidered towel slung low around his hips…

Holy mother of… Delia!

‘Bloody hell, Blake!’ she blurted, pressing a hand to her chest as though it could physically suppress the surging heat within. ‘You scared the life out of me! I thought – I wasn’t – why are you?—’

* * *

‘Well, well, Twinkle Toes has a twinkle mouth.’ He stepped towards her, as amused by her eyes twitching south as he was by her floundering lips. ‘Are you lost?’

‘Am I what?’ she blurted, cheeks as red as the heart of the Titans logo on the floor beneath them. ‘No.’

‘So, you regularly pay a visit to the men’s locker room then?’

‘I…’ She nipped her lip, eyes still twitching. ‘I just finished up with Stella and… I didn’t want to disturb the function going on out there and I thought there was a back way…’

‘Riiiight, so you weren’t hoping to cop an eyeful?’

She was copping one all right and by the way she just licked her lips, she was enjoying the show.

‘Of course not.’ She lifted her chin, forcing her eyes up with it. ‘I thought you players were having a rest day.’

‘We are.’

‘And yet, you’re here?’

He shrugged. ‘Needed to work last night’s loss out of my system.’

‘How?’

‘How what?’

‘How do you do that?’

Foxy the Reporter was back in the room, straight on with the questioning.

‘I work out. In the gym, on the ice… in the bedroom.’