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Here it comes, Mac thought, resigned.
“What were you thinking, trying to move that fridge yourself? One call and one of us would’ve been there to help you!”
Mac shrugged. “It wasn’t that heavy. It started to fall and I tried to catch it.”
“Why the hell can’t you just ask for help?” Quinn demanded. “It’s serious, Mac, career-ending serious.”
Mac felt the blood in his face drain away. When he could speak, he pushed the words out between dry lips. “That bad, huh?”
Kade looked as white as Mac imagined himself to be. “That bad.”
“Physiotherapy?” Mac demanded.
“An outside chance at best,” Quinn answered him. He didn’t sugarcoat his words, and Mac appreciated it. He needed the truth.
Kade spoke again. “We’ve found someone to work with you. She’s reputed to be the best at sports rehabilitation injuries.”
Neither of his friends met his eyes, and his heart sank to his toes. He knew that look, knew that he wouldn’t like what was coming next.
“Who? Nurse Ratched?” he joked.
“Rory Kydd,” Kade told him, his face impassive.
“Rory? What?” he croaked, not liking the frantic note in his voice. It was bad enough seeing Rory in his dreams but being her patient would mean hitting the seventh level of hell.
There was a reason why he never thought of her, why he’d obliterated that day from his memory. He’d publicly humiliated himself and the world had seen him at his worst. Rory’d had a front-row seat to the behind-the-scenes action.
Saying what he had on that open mic had been bad enough but almost kissing his about-to-be ex’s sister was unforgiveable. At the time he’d been thinking of Rory a lot, had been, strangely, attracted to Shay’s petite but feisty younger sister. But he should never have caged her in, tempting them both. He knew better than to act on those kinds of feelings, even if his relationship with Shay had been sliding downhill.
His mother’s many messy affairs had taught him to keep his own liaisons clean, to remove himself from one situation before jumping into another. He’d forgotten those lessons the moment Rory looked at him with her wide, lust-filled eyes. His big brain shut down as his little brain perked up...
In the months afterward he hadn’t missed Shay—too needy, too insecure—but he had missed talking to, teasing, laughing with Rory. She’d been, before he mucked it up, his first real female friend.
That day he’d also unwittingly created a media superstorm and a public persona for himself. He’d been branded a player, a party-hard, commitment-phobic prick whose two objectives in life were to play with a puck and to chase skirts.
They had it half right...
Yes, he liked the occasional party and was commitment-phobic. Yes, he loved to play with a puck and yeah, he had sex, but not as much or with as many woman as was suggested in the tabloids. These days he was a great deal more discriminating about who he took into his bed, and it had been a couple of months since he’d been laid.
He looked down at his arm and scowled. It seemed like it would be a few more.
Quinn gripped the railing at the end of the bed with his massive hands. “Rory is the best and God knows you need the best. We need her because everything we’ve worked toward for the past five years is about to slip from our fingers because you were too pigheaded to ask for help!”
Kade frowned at their hotheaded friend. “Take it easy, Quinn. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose.”
No, but it was his fault. Mac tipped his head up to look at the ceiling. He’d failed again today, failed his team, his friends, his future.
And it looked like, once again, Rory would be there to witness it.
There had to be another option. “Find someone else! Anyone else!”
“Don’t be a moron!” Quinn told him.
Kade, always the voice of reason, stepped between them before they started to yell. “You’ll work with her while we do damage control on our end.”
Mac rested his head on his pillow, feeling the sedative effects of whatever the nurse had stuck in him. Ignoring the approaching grogginess, he sucked in some deep breaths and forced his brain to work.
Dammit, why did Vernon Hasselback have to die before they’d concluded the deal they’d all been discussing for the past decade? It was a simple plan: when the time was right he and Kade and Quinn would buy the franchise from Vernon. They’d been working toward this since they were all rookie players and they’d hammered out a detailed plan to raise the cash, which included using their player fees and endorsement money to invest in business opportunities to fund their future purchase of the franchise. The strategy had worked well. Within a decade they had a rock-solid asset base and were, by anyone’s standards, ridiculously wealthy. Money wasn’t an issue. They could buy the franchise without breaking much of a sweat. But to take the team and its brand to the next level they needed a partner who brought certain skills to the table. Someone who had bigger and better connections in all facets of the media, who could open the doors to mega-sponsorship deals, who had merchandising experience.
Unfortunately, because Vernon died in the bed of his latest mistress, his widow and the beneficiary of his entire estate wasn’t inclined to honor his wishes about passing the mantle on to the three of them. Myra wanted to sell the franchise to a Russian billionaire who’d acquired six sports teams in the past two years and was rebranding them to be generic, cardboard cutouts of the teams they once were and mouthpieces for his bland corporation. Kade had convinced Myra to give them some time but they knew she was impulsive and impatient. She would use any setback as an excuse to sell the franchise out from under them, and Mac’s injury was a very big setback.
“No one can know how badly I’m injured.”
Kade and Quinn nodded. “I’m very aware of that,” Kade said. “I also have a potential investor on the hook. He’s a loaded Mavericks fan, meets all our requirements and runs a massive media empire so nothing can jeopardize our negotiations. You are one of the reasons he wants to buy the team. He knows you only have a few more years left at this level and he wants you to spend that time mentoring the rookie talent.”
So, no additional pressure then. Mac pushed the drowsiness away. “So I have to start playing with his team when the season opens.”
“Essentially,” Quinn replied, blowing air into his cheeks. “If not sooner.”
Mac clenched his jaw in determination. It was the same attitude that had won the team the Stanley Cup two years ago, that had taken him from being just another rookie to one of the most exciting players of his generation. When he decided he was going to do something, achieve something, win something, nothing and nobody got in his way.
“Then I will be on the ice when the season opens.”
If that meant working with Rory, so be it. Yes, he’d embarrassed himself a very long time ago. It happened and it was time to move the hell on. He refused to give in or give up—not while there was a chance of getting what he wanted.
“Set up the physio and let’s get this party started.”
Kade smiled. “You had surgery earlier today. How about getting some sleep first?”
“Are you convinced Rory is the best?” he asked with slightly slurred words.
Kade nodded. “Yeah, she is.”
“Get her. Offer her what she needs so she can concentrate on me...” Stupid drugs, Mac thought, making him say the wrong thing. “On my arm. Not me.”
Quinn placed a hand on Mac’s good shoulder and squeezed. “Go to sleep, bud.”
Mac managed a couple more words before slipping off into sleep. “Offer her whatever it takes...”
* * *
Rory paused outside the door to Mac’s room the next day and hoisted her bag over her shoulder. She pushed her hand through her layered, choppy bob before smoothing out a crease that had appeared in her white and navy tunic, thinking that it had already been a weird day and it wasn’t even mid-morning yet. Her day had started with Kade contacting her at the crack of dawn, demanding a meeting to discuss Mac and his injury. She’d told him she could only give Mac her assessment of his injuries and if Mac wanted Kade there, then that was his prerogative. Kade had seemed more amused than annoyed by her crisp tone and had followed up his demands by telling her he had a proposition for her...one that she’d want to hear.
That was intriguing enough to get her to meet with them during her morning break.
Just knock on the door and get this meeting over with, Rory told herself. You are not nineteen anymore and desperately infatuated with your sister’s boyfriend. You’re a highly qualified professional who is in high demand. He’s a patient like any other.
Except none of her patients kissed her like he did, or flooded her system with take-me-quick hormones with one look from his navy eyes.
God, you are ridiculous, Rory thought, not amused.
Not allowing herself another minute to hesitate, she briskly knocked on the door, and when she heard his command to enter, she stepped inside. She ignored Mac’s two friends standing on either side of his bed and her gaze immediately landed on his face. She told her libido to calm down and gave Mac a professional once-over. He was wearing a V-neck T-shirt and someone, probably Troy, had removed the right sleeve. His injured arm was bandaged from wrist to shoulder and was supported by a sling. Clear, annoyed and very wary eyes met hers.
Mac, she also noticed, was in pain but he was fighting his way through it.
Rory looked at his friends, good-looking guys, and smiled. “Hello, Kade. Quinn.” Rory stepped toward the bed. “Mac. It’s been a while.”
Rory held her breath, waiting to see if he remembered the kiss they’d shared, whether he’d say anything about her being in his room the night before. His face remained inscrutable and the look in his eyes didn’t change. Thank God, he didn’t remember. That would make her life, and this experience, easier.
Or as easy as it could possibly be.
“Rory.”
Her name on his lips, she’d never thought she’d hear it again. She desperately wished it wasn’t under such circumstances. Rory gathered her wits and asked Quinn to move out of her way. When he did, she stepped up to the bed and pulled the smaller of the two blankets from her bag and placed the control box on the bedside table.
“What are you doing?” Mac demanded. “You’re here to talk, not to fuss.”
Rory looked him in the eye and didn’t react to his growl. “And we will talk, after I set this up.”
“What is it?” Kade demanded from his spot on the other side of the bed.
Rory explained how the blanket worked and gently tucked the mat around Mac’s injured arm. She started the program, stepped back and folded her arms. “You need some pain meds,” she told Mac.
“I’m fine,” Mac muttered, his tone suggesting she back off. That wasn’t going to happen. The sooner Mac learned that she wasn’t easily intimidated, the better. The trick with difficult patients, and obstinate men, was to show no fear.
“You either take some meds or I walk out this door,” Rory told him, her voice even. Her words left no doubt that she wasn’t bluffing. She picked up the two pills that sat next to a glass of water and waited until Mac opened his hand to receive them. He sent her a dirty look, dry swallowed them and reluctantly chased them down with water from the glass she handed to him.
“You’re not a martyr, nor a superhero, so take the meds on schedule,” she told him in her best no-nonsense voice.Rory held his hot look and in his eyes she saw frustration morph into something deeper, darker, sexier.
Whoo boy! Internal temperature rising...
“You cut your hair,” Mac said, tipping his head to the side.
“Quite a few times in the past decade,” Rory replied, her voice tart. One of them had to get this conversation back on track and it looked like she’d been elected.
Fantastic kiss aside, Mac was a potential patient, nothing more, nothing less. She’d be professional if it killed her. She deliberately glanced at her watch and lifted her arched eyebrows. “I have another patient in thirty minutes...so let’s skip the small talk and you can tell me why I’m really here.”
“I need a physiotherapist.”
“Obviously.” Rory shrugged. “You’re going to need a lot of therapy to get your arm working properly.”
“I don’t want it to work properly. I want it to be as good as new,” Mac stated. “In two months’ time.”
“In your dreams.” Okay, everyone knew Mac was determined but he wasn’t stupid. “That’s not going to happen. You know that’s not possible.”
Mac pulled on his stubborn expression. “It is going to happen and I’ll be back on the ice with or without your help.”
Rory sent Kade and Quinn a “help me” look but they just stood there. She was on her own, it seemed. “McCaskill, listen to me. You half ripped a tendon off the bone. It was surgically reattached. We don’t know how much damage you’ve done to the nerves. This injury needs time to heal—”
“I don’t have time,” Mac told her. “I’ve got a couple of months and that’s it.”
Rory shoved her hands into her hair in sheer frustration. “You can sit out another couple of months—you are not indispensable!”
Dammit, her voice was rising. Not good. Do not let him rattle you!
“Two months and I need to be playing. That’s it, Rory, that’s all the time I’ve got,” Mac insisted. “Now, either I get you to help me do that or I take my chances on someone else.”
“Someone you will railroad into allowing you to do what you want, when you want, probably resulting in permanent damage.” This was how he’d be in a relationship, she thought. All bossy and stubborn and determined to have his way.
After a lifetime of watching her father steamroll their mother, those weren’t characteristics she’d ever tolerate.
“Maybe,” was all Mac said.
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...?”
