A Perfect Strategy

He looked at his friends. “Any reason Callum Hardshaw would be calling me?”

Kasanski shook his head. “Not that I can think of.”

Rivera shrugged. “Maybe he wants to offer you a job.”

“He knows I don’t want to coach.” Though even that would be better than sitting on his ass at home, doing nothing.

“What about scouting?” Monty offered.

“Definitely not. I’m done with traveling the whole time. Scouting would be worse. Heading to all those junior and college teams to check out prospects—I’d never be home.”

“Team ambassador?” Chance pulled on a black T-shirt with the team’s snow-leopard logo. “You know, schmooze the sponsors and the season-ticket holders at Ice Cats events.”

“Not my scene either.” A job where he had to spend his time making small talk? No way.

“I bet Hardshaw wants you for some PR stuff,” Ice Man said, combing his wet dark hair. “Some fancy, high-dollar-a-plate dinner where you’re the big-bucks draw.”

“Why would the GM call me for that? Usually I hear from the marketing guy when they want my face or name.”

“Didn’t he move on?” Monty frowned. “To that soccer team, the Bridgers. He got pissed about the way the Scartellis kept nixing his proposals while spending crazy amounts of money on weird promotions the fans hated.”

“There were changes in the front office over the summer,” Scott said. “But I thought it was because of budget cuts. Either way, it’s a shame. The kid was pretty switched on.”

“If you ask me, those kinds of people—advertising, marketing, PR—are a dime a dozen,” Rivera said.

“None of which tells me why Hardshaw called.” Scott tapped his cell against his chin.

“You could do the obvious thing and phone him back.”

He cuffed the back of Kasanski’s head. “I know that, numbnuts.” He hit Call Back.

Hardshaw answered on the first ring. “Hey, Scotty, how’s it going?”

“Not bad. You?”

“Yeah, good. Busy. You know how it is.”

He didn’t but played along. “For sure. So, what can I do for you?”

“Any chance you could stop by sometime today? I have a couple ideas I’d like to bounce off you.”

Scott tried to read the GM’s voice but couldn’t. “I have an hour this afternoon, at three, if that works for you.” He had the whole freaking afternoon free, but he wasn’t about to let Hardshaw know that.

“Great. See you then.”

Once he’d hung up, Scott turned to his friends. “He wants to see me.” He relayed the brief conversation. “I’ve got nothing to lose by hearing what he has to say. It’s not like I have anything else on the horizon.”

Monty clapped him on the shoulder. “They say the second year of retirement is the hardest. When reality sets in. If you can get through that, you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Good thing you have us around to keep you from turning into an old man—pipe and slippers and reading the paper by the fire.” Kasanski smacked Scott’s stomach with the back of his hand. “We’ll keep you from getting fat and flabby, too.”

Scott slung his bag over his shoulder. “Look who’s talking, Ice Man. You were puffing like a steam train in those last sprints. Too much fun in the sun over the summer?”

“Too much junk food and too many margaritas in Cancún,” Rivera said. “With that and J.B.’s wedding bash on the weekend, I don’t think Kasanski has stopped partying since we raised the Cup.”

“Like you’re any better,” Ice Man scoffed. “None of us are.”

“You forget, I have the twins to keep me on my toes. Running around after them is a full-time job.” Chance’s wife had suffered badly from postpartum depression and walked out on him and their babies eighteen months ago. “Especially now they’re walking, talking and into everything. It’s the terrible twos times two.”

“No joy finding another nanny?”

“The agency sent a woman who seems to be working out okay. Still, I want to spend as much time with them as I can. Especially in the off-season.”

The three friends understood how hard it had been for Chance. They’d stood by him and seen him through the worst of it.

Always the smart-ass, Kasanski lightened the tone as they walked out of the rink. “Whatever you say, you were puffing as much as me, Net-Boy and the old guy here, Rivera.”

“In your dreams, Ice Cube.”

“You wish you had my dreams.” Kasanski grinned. “Anyway, the hard work starts now and I’ll be in prime condition for training camp. If only it didn’t take so much longer to get in shape than it did when we were in our twenties.”

“Amen to that,” Scott said fervently. “That’s why I had to hang ’em up in the end.”

“Gone are the days when players used to have a drink and a smoke between periods,” Monty said sadly, even though he was too young to remember that.

“The speed some of the old guys skated at, you could have a drink and a smoke between plays,” Ice Man added, tossing his bag into the back of his SUV. “Now we have to watch calories and monitor food intake like Miss freaking America.”

“Which brings us to lunch. Good thing, because I’m starving.” Monty opened his car door. “Usual place?”

The four men agreed and headed off to the local bistro they’d been frequenting for many years. After lunch they agreed to meet up again the following day at the gym and then went their separate ways.

Scott drove to the Cats’ head office. Though he was a little early, Hardshaw’s assistant took him straight to the GM’s office.

“Can I get you a drink, Scotty?” Doreen asked.

“Ice water would be great, thanks.”

“Make that two, please.” Callum came around his desk to shake Scott’s hand. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Your call intrigued me.” Scott took the seat his former GM indicated, while Callum leaned against the front of his desk.

“These are interesting times for the Cats. People outside the business don’t understand that the summer after winning the Cup is actually more difficult than one when you’ve lost it. Riding high on the win creates its own set of problems.”

Scott nodded. “I know you have some tough decisions to make, especially with the salary cap not going up as much as it has in the past.” Plus he’d heard the rumors about the Scartellis’ financial problems.

“Right. We have some big contracts up for renewal over the next twelve to twenty-four months. We also need to think about how to leverage our success into future strength. It’s hard to repeat a Cup win the following year, no matter how much we want to.”

It was true. Since the powerhouse teams of the ’70s and ’80s, few teams had managed back-to-back Cup wins.

“I want the Cats to be positioned to win in alternate years like Chicago and LA have done. But as an organization, we need to make sure we’re delivering for our fans, our sponsors and our owners, too.”

“For sure.” Scott still wasn’t sure where this was leading. “Having retired, I’m far enough removed to get that this is a business and the team’s performance on the ice is only one aspect—albeit the most important one—of how success is measured.”

“Exactly.” Hardshaw snapped his fingers. “I knew you’d see the bigger picture.”

“So, what can I do for you?”

“I understand that the commentating gig isn’t working out for you.”

“Yeah.”

“Frankly, that was a waste of your skills. There are plenty of other guys who can do the talking-heads thing.”

“That was the network’s view, too.” Scott made a dismissive gesture. “Can’t say I’ll miss it.”

“Their loss is my gain, I hope.”

“In what way?”

“I’m looking for a new right-hand man. One who can complement my strengths and weaknesses. Who can bring fresh insights to the organization. Who is close enough to the game to provide a player’s perspective but still understand the financial needs of a business. I think you fit that bill perfectly.”

Join the team’s management? For the first time since he retired, Scott felt a genuine stirring of interest. The sports-bar idea was a bit of fun, but this was something he could get his teeth into. “What about Brendan?”

The current assistant general manager had been with the Cats since Scott was a rookie. He was also the only one left from the previous GM’s era. Brendan was a nice-enough guy but, in Scott’s opinion, resistant to change and lacking in vision.

Callum crossed his arms. “We both agreed it was time for fresh blood. He’ll transition into one of our ambassadors, so he can still be part of the organization and we can tap into his knowledge base whenever we need it. The man has a phenomenal memory of the Cats’ history and players.”

“That’s a good role for him.”

“A win-win. So, what do you think? Are you up for a new challenge?”

Although it seemed like an interesting solution, Scott didn’t want to leap into the job without knowing more. “I’d definitely like to hear what would be involved.”

* * *

“I’M GLAD YOU’LL be part of my team. Welcome aboard.”

Callum’s simple words, when Scott signed his contract two days later, summed up what had really appealed to him. What Scott had missed since he’d retired. Being part of a team. And not just any team, but his beloved Ice Cats.

He’d discussed the job with Andy, his friends and his kids before accepting Callum’s offer. Andy had reiterated his view that Scott would do well in a business role. Angela had teased him about finding another position where he could boss people around, and Wayne had thought it was cool that his dad would be in management. Kasanski had put in a bid for a mega-millions mega-year contract, which Scott had treated with the respect it deserved—he’d ignored it.

As for Scott, he was psyched. For the first time in a year, he was eager to get started. “Glad to be here.”

Callum wasted no time throwing Scott in the deep end. After a quick introduction to the front-office staff—most of whom Scott knew from his time as a player—and a review of his induction schedule, the pair went through the issues that needed to be dealt with before training camp began.

They were about to break for lunch when Callum’s cell rang.

He glanced at the caller ID. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s Jim Scartelli.”

As Callum exchanged pleasantries with the owner, that familiar chill slithered down Scott’s neck. The presentiment worsened when Hardshaw’s face paled.

“I see. Thank you for letting me know. Yes, I’ll be there.” Callum ended the call and stared at his cell for several moments before looking at Scott, his expression a little bleak.

“Is something wrong?” Even though it was obvious, Scott sensed his boss needed prodding to be able to speak.

“The team has been sold. There will be an announcement tomorrow, but the Scartellis wanted to give me a heads-up.” Callum swore. “I knew they were considering a sale—I helped with due diligence for potential buyers—but I had no idea things had moved so quickly. I thought we had more time.”

“How will that affect us?”

“That’s up to our new owner. Mr. Antonelli may want his own people in charge. I’ll have my work cut out convincing him I’m the right man for the job.”

And if Antonelli didn’t want Callum, he wouldn’t want his management team either. “You built the Cats into a Cup-winning team, despite a bargain-basement budget. Our new owner has to respect that.”

“I hope so, but the Scartellis’ lack of investment has tied my hands with marketing and business development for a long time and it shows. I could be the easy sacrifice.” Hardshaw sighed heavily. “Anyway, we’ll find out more soon enough. Antonelli and his posse are flying in this evening and they expect to meet us right away.” He gave Scott an apologetic look. “Looks like you’re going to have a trial by fire.”

What could he say? “It’s an interesting first day, for sure.” Scott shrugged, as if it was no problem to him. But he couldn’t shake that sense of foreboding.

CHAPTER FOUR

WITH THE PRECISION of the Secret Service escorting the president, the three limos that had ferried Marty Antonelli’s people from Teterboro Airport pulled up outside the Ice Cats headquarters.

Scott smiled when several of the well-dressed men emerging from the cars appeared to wilt as they encountered the notorious New Jersey humidity. He’d take any edge he could get for the upcoming meeting. Not that he expected to play anything but a minor part. Still, he was damned if he’d let them mess with his team.

“They look set for action,” he said as Callum joined him by his office window.

“We will be, too. How free are you this weekend?”

“No plans. Why?” Glancing at his boss, Scott was intrigued by his buoyant expression.

“Good.” Callum slapped him on the back. “I’ve decided to be proactive. I figure with all the media hoopla, we have until Monday before Mr. Antonelli gets down to serious business and I plan to use that time wisely. We’re meeting with the department heads at my place so we can pull together our vision for how the organization should move forward. I want us to walk into Monday’s meeting prepared to knock them on their asses.”

“You’re talking my language. I’ve always preferred to take the battle to my opponents.”

Scott turned to the window. His smile faded as a pair of gorgeous, tanned legs in beige spiked-heel shoes emerged from the middle limo.

His body reacted instantly, recognizing who the legs belonged to even before Sapphie straightened and his brain caught up.

What’s she... The question had barely begun to form before memories of their last morning together flashed and things clicked into place. He remembered the client she’d had to rush away for had been called Marty, but Scott hadn’t made the connection with the new owner. Guess he now knew why it had been so urgent.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Sapphie as she shrugged a red jacket over her red-and-white dress. She stood out like a colorful flower in the midst of the dark suits of her colleagues. His gaze followed her hungrily as she led the others toward the building, where she disappeared from his sight.

She’d be coming up here. She’d be in all the meetings.

Crap. This wasn’t how he’d expected to run into her again. He wasn’t ready.

Scott had hardly gotten his mind around that uncomfortable fact when Callum’s assistant informed them that their guests were waiting in Reception.

“Please get the management team to the boardroom. Scott and I will go greet Mr. Antonelli and his people.” Callum turned to him. “Ready to face the enemy?”

No wasn’t an acceptable response. Especially when driven by purely personal reasons. But Scott had never backed down from a challenge and he wasn’t about to start now. Just as he had on so many nights before a clash with a tough opponent, Scott put on his game face. “Always.”

* * *

“OF COURSE I KNOW our former captain.”

Sapphie’s smile felt overbright as she shook Scotty’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

There—the perfect mix of good manners and enthusiasm. If anyone noticed an edge to her words or the color that crept into her cheeks from the touch of his skin against hers, they’d assume it was fan-girl awkwardness. Not that she was shocked at coming face-to-face with the man with whom she’d spent a glorious weekend burning up the sheets. God, was that really less than a week ago?

They certainly wouldn’t see her frustration, that she was so jittery, while Scotty looked calm. But then, he was probably used to dealing with starstruck fans.

“Nice to see you, too.” His deep voice sent a tremor through her, reminding her body of the sexy things he’d murmured in her ear.

Despite all the hard work preparing for this trip, she hadn’t been able to get Scotty out of her head. If she was honest, she’d admit that she’d hoped they’d bump into each other at some point. At a fund-raiser or a meet and greet. In a few weeks, maybe a month or two.

Not now. Not today.

What was he doing here? Thankfully, before she could find a way to ask without giving herself away, Marty did it for her.

“As nice as it is to meet one of my all-time favorite players, we weren’t expecting any media at this meeting.”

“Scotty isn’t with the network any longer.” Callum explained the former captain’s new role as AGM. “We’re excited to have him.”

Her gaze shot up to meet Scotty’s.

The serious, steady look in those blue eyes confirmed the news. “This is my first day on the job.”

“Excellent.” Marty laughed and clapped Scotty on the back. “Smart move. I always thought you were wasted in the booth.”

As her boss and the Cats’ GM talked about how good it would be to have someone of Scotty’s experience, Sapphie managed to clear her throat and force out some words.

“Congratulations. Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “It’s been...interesting, so far.”

“For sure.” Cursing herself for not being able to come up with a better response, Sapphie dropped her gaze to her jacket and picked off an imaginary thread.

“Shall we head upstairs so you can meet the rest of the team?” Callum suggested, holding the elevator door open.

Sapphie held back, waiting for the second car, thinking Scotty might go with the first group. Unfortunately, he had the same idea and they ended up standing next to each other. Although there was plenty of space between them, she was ridiculously aware of how close he was.

In the boardroom it was easy to move away from Scotty as she was introduced to the other members of the Cats’ senior management group. While people took their seats, her stomach tightened as she waited to see where Scotty would end up.

“Sapphire, come and sit beside me.” Marty stood at the head of the table and indicated her place at his right hand. He put Callum on his left with Scotty alongside him.

Which meant she and Scotty were practically opposite each other. Wishing she had some papers to fiddle with, she busied herself pouring glasses of sparkling water for those close to her.

Once everyone was seated—Marty’s people on the right, the Ice Cats’ on the left—Hardshaw stood. “Welcome, Mr. Antonelli and your team, to New Jersey.” He pointed to the painting of the famous hockey trophy on the far wall. “And to the headquarters of the reigning Stanley Cup champions.”

Everyone whooped and clapped.

“We look forward to a bright and prosperous future for our organization as part of your group. We—” Callum waved his hand toward the Ice Cats’ management “—and all the hardworking people in our departments are committed one hundred percent to giving you our best.”

Once the applause had quieted, Marty rose, thanked Callum, then gave his usual spiel, reassuring the people around the table that he wasn’t there to do a hatchet job. He emphasized that he was a fan and wanted continued success for the team. “I want the Ice Cats to be a dynasty. Winning the Cup every year is almost impossible, but alternate years would be perfectly acceptable.”

Everyone laughed.

Marty grew serious. “I also want my teams to be well run and profitable. We all know, I’m sure, there is plenty of room for improvement on that score.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement came from across the table.

“However, I assure you that it will be business as usual until I have a complete picture of what is required for this organization. I’m a great believer in talking to people at all levels and in all departments before making any decisions.” He indicated the men and women on his left. “You know the strengths and weaknesses of this business better than anybody. My team has a lot of experience in making businesses perform at the level I want them to. Together, we will fix what doesn’t work and, more important, leave alone what does. Together, we will create a winning team in the front office as well as on the ice.”

As Marty continued with his speech, Sapphie sneaked a peek at Scotty. Though his body was angled to appear as though he was listening to Marty, his gaze clashed with hers.

For a moment, she was startled to see a flash of heat in his unguarded eyes. Maybe he wasn’t as unmoved by their meeting as he seemed. That gave her a boost of confidence, and for the first time since setting foot in the Ice Cats’ building, her tension eased. She sent him a half smile before turning her attention to Marty.

“Let’s go around the table and introduce ourselves. Then we’ll break and head to my club for drinks and dinner so that we can get to know each other. Tomorrow we’ll have a press conference and announce the sale to the media. Beginning Monday, we roll up our sleeves and the hard work starts.” He paused, then grinned. “Well, it will for you. I’m afraid my attention is required elsewhere. There are definite perks to being the owner, other than the best seats for a home game.”

This time, the laughter had a definite edge. Everyone in the room was aware of how important the coming weeks would be and what was at stake. No matter how jovial and avuncular Marty Antonelli seemed, his reputation preceded him. His standards were exacting. He did not suffer fools or incompetence. His decision, once made, was final.

Marty laid his hand on her shoulder. “You all know who I am, so I’ll hand you over to my right-hand gal. Sapphire will keep you on your toes. She certainly keeps me on mine.”

Sapphie was conscious of all the eyes on her. Not exactly true. Just one pair of blue eyes. A pair of serious, slightly damning but oh-so-sexy blue eyes.

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