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Jamila Jasper

• Herausgeber: Publisher s23991
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Amy Luc is my client. He’s aggressive, unruly and dangerously off limits.  He wants to have me in every position and toy with me until I scream. I must resist him. I could lose my job… I could lose everything.  If either of us screw up our next gig, our entire lives will be ruined. He’s supposed to be well behaved. I’m supposed to keep him that way. But how can you tame a man who’s as much of a beast in the bedroom as on the ice?  Luc She runs the show in her world and I run the show in mine. I’m what anyone would consider an alpha. My publicists shake in their boots when I walk in the room. Not her.  She isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Not even me. Not even my past. Amy thinks I can change my life around, but I know the truth about guys like me. We never change. At least I never will… Not for her, not for anyone. Get ready to squirm in your seat as the curvy black girl falls into the arms of a powerful white alpha male. This standalone interracial romance novel is 50,000+ words long with NO cliffhanger and a guaranteed HEA.

Leseprobe

Get Pucked

BWWM Hockey Romance

Jamila Jasper

Jamila Jasper Romance

Contents

1. Beginnings

2. Amy Amy Amy

3. Kids…

4. Mistakes Were Made

5. Benefits

6. Creating A Scandal

7. Get Cut

8. Under Arrest

9. Chopping Block

10. Steamy Nights

11. Break In

12. Threats

13. What Happened In Monaco

14. Amy Knows

15. Sharks

16. Shook

17. New York

Afterword

18. BONUS: FREE Sample

Patreon

Social Media

Acknowledgments

Beginnings

Luc Alfredsson

I spent my entire life on ice. I eat sleep and breathe hockey. My nickname growing up was "Puck", for obvious reasons. When I was sixteen, I flew to Canada to pursue my dream: playing hockey until the day I die. 

I stared at Coach Gagnon, a big French-Canadian bastard who stood three feet away from me, screaming his head off in my face. 

"LUC, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!" 

His thick Quebecois accent, pierced me out of my daydream. Coach Gagnon’s green eyes bored into my mine. I could see the reflection of my face in his eyes, staring back at me with that boyish smirk I couldn’t shake whenever someone started yelling at me.

"Yeah," I shrugged, "I'm listening."

"What did I just say, then?”

Trick question. I hadn’t been listening and coach knew. I was a goner.

"Uhhh... I'm in huge trouble?"

"Oui! You are in huge trouble you stupid bastard! Tabernac! How could you get on camera and say something like that for all the world to see?" 

I responded with a smirk, knowing it would piss off Félix and knowing that he'd kick my ass off the ice for doing so.

"GET OUT!" Félix roared.

I heard the others laughing, low rumbling chuckles common in the locker room. They watched with folded arms to see if I’d finally get what was coming to me. Coach was right, I had been an ass. But if he wanted to embarrass me in front of the whole team, I’d walk off the ice like a man with a smile on my face.

My smirk turned into a grin and I swung my gym bag over my shoulder.

"Fine. I'll leave." 

Dave Tanner stepped up, approaching Félix and resting a hand on his shoulder. He could always talk sense into the coach, or me.

"Coach, with all due respect, we need Luc on the ice today."

Félix's face glowed red hot. His bottle green eyes glimmered with rage and frustration. His face reddened because he knew Dave was right, he couldn’t bear to admit it. After what I’d done… After how I’d embarrassed him… It stung to let me waltz right back on the ice. But he needed me. Desperately.

"Put your shit down Luc." Dave nodded and I obliged, dropping my gym bag to the ground.

"He's right. We need you on the ice. We're playing Calgary in a month and I need you boys to whoop 'em."

Snickers and cheers of agreement erupted from the team. 

"Get dressed," Gagnon growled.

I nodded and stalked off to the locker room, victorious once more. I stripped down to my boxers and then suited up. Long sleeved warm-up tee, pants, pads, helmet and then my skates. Before I could lace my skates up, Dave opened the door to the locker room.

"Are you in here you big stupid bastard?" “Here.”

“Trying to lose your contract, eh?“ Dave asked.

Dave always had my back when I messed up. He'd been that way since I was first drafted to the minors up in Toronto, all the way until now.

"No," I replied, "I can't stand when Coach gets like that."

"When he does what? His job?"

I glared at Dave.

"I don't need a lecture from you mom."

"Hey, don't take it out on me, eh?" 

He reached for my hand to help me off the bench.

"You're right. Maybe I should retire." "Bullshit," Dave retorted, "You're one of the top shooters in the entire league. You have to play."

"With those fines... I don't know."

"You did earn those fines."

"It was a joke," I growled.

How was it my fault no one had a sense of humor these days? On my feet, I lumbered out of the locker room door towards the ice.

“A joke that went over poorly. Cough up the money and move on. You don’t have to make a big deal out of this.”

“Félix wants to.”

“Félix is pissed. He should be pissed. We’ve had media training. You should have known better.”

I grunted in response and changed the subject.

"Is Jane in today?" I asked.

"What do you care?" Dave asked, folding his arms.

"No reason."

"You aren't thinking of getting back together with her, are you?"

I scowled, "No." "Good. You were a bastard to her Luc. You broke her heart."

I grunted. Broke her heart. Yeah right. Jane knew exactly what she was signing up for with me. My reputation is no secret and the incident only made things worse. The guys were already on the ice, sticks in hand, pucks slipping back and forth across the frigid terrain. Home.

Dave stepped onto the ice before I did and he was off. I might have been the best shooter on the team, but Dave was the fastest. He started off on the first part of our warmup, sprints. I followed him, racing as fast as I could, my lungs stinging with the sharp blasts of cold air familiar to the first five minutes of the workout.

My heart rate caught up with my legs. We skated forward, bursting across the ice at unthinkable speeds. The rush of adrenaline sent me flying faster. Then backward. We skated backward, our feet crisscrossing as we infused our brutish sport with real grace.

Pucks flew onto the ice and Félix stood outside, glaring at me as we started shooting. Stamkos, the goalie, stood impenetrable in front of the net. I grinned as I flew down the ice towards him, smacking the puck at full speed, knowing he couldn't catch my shot. He missed and I whooped, to his dismay. My shooting made John one of the best goalies in the entire league. He could stop a puck flying at his face at 90 mph. He was that good.

"Good shot," he called. 

John's thick German accent meant I could hardly understand a word he said, but his respect was visible in his eyes. Practice went on like that. Tough. Hard. My muscles ached from four straight hours of sprinting. Coach Gagnon was right though -- we had to whoop Calgary. My old buddies from the minors played on the team. Cal Sampson, an irritating Texan with a stick up his ass played for Calgary, as did my former roommate, Leo Lip-Twitch. He had a Polish last name I can't be assed to remember but we all called him lip twitch because when he was intensely focused, his lip twitched. 

Hey, I never said our nicknames were clever, did I?

On the ice, I came alive. My senses heightened and my body performed at its peak, executing all I'd trained it to do. It's hard to describe to a weak man what strength feels like, but it's like being high... all the time. Endorphins and adrenaline coursed through my veins as I dribbled the puck down the ice.

As I came close to scoring, our new recruit Henrik skated out of nowhere and flicked the puck out of my control.

"Bastard..." I growled.

He dribbled the puck back in the opposite direction as I chased him. For a new recruit, he was good, but the experience made me better. I caught up with him in a matter of seconds, but instead of pushing my stick out to grab the puck, I thrust it between his legs, causing him to fall over.

"Watch it," I growled, as he toppled over, losing his balance.

When Henrik returned to his feet, he glowered at me, hot rage surging through his pink face, his long blond hair covering his eyes through his helmet.

"Asshole," he grunted.

He lunged at me, but I was faster than him. I dodged his punch and landed another one on him. He grunted and hit me in the stomach. Where did that little punk learn how to hit like that? I grabbed his pads and pushed him against the wall, hitting him until I heard Gagnon's familiar shout. "ENOUGH. LUC. OFF THE ICE. MAINTENANT!"

I eased off Henrik. His nose was only bleeding a little, but his face was redder. Like most young recruits, he wasn't afraid of fighting, but he didn't enjoy getting his ass handed to him.

Once I eased off him, Henrik skated to join the others, dribbling the puck he'd stolen from me playfully across the ice. Gagnon's face said everything once I was off the ice. I knew he was going to chew my ear out but this time, I was ready for him. Henrik knew the rules on the ice. He knew how our team played. He got what was coming to him for stepping out of line. 

After practice, Coach gathered us around.

"You boys did great. You, Dave, stay after practice." "Me?" I asked.

"Did I stutter?" Gagnon replied, his French accent thickening with his frustration.

"Yes, sir." 

Gagnon sent the rest of the team off to get some rest, but he held me and Dave behind.

"It's clear we need to talk."

I glowered at him, "Henrik knows how we play. That little punk deserved it." "Silence!"

I kept my mouth shut. Dave glared at me, encouraging me to stop being such a smart ass for once. 

"You need to make some changes Luc. I can handle you, but the boss doesn't like liabilities."

"It was one fight!" I protested, "That's what the game is about."

"Henrik is a new recruit but he is still your teammate. He is Swedish, just like you are you big lug. So show him some respect and keep your bloody hands off him. There's so much fire under your ass I could roast a fuckin' pig!" Gagnon spat.

He was practically foaming at the mouth and I struggled to keep my amusement under wraps. 

"Coach, I'll pay the fines. It'll be fine."

"Non!" Gagnon hissed, "It will not be fine. You fail to understand how serious this is Luc."

"With all due respect coach, why am I here?" Dave asked.

"Because you," Coach spat, "Are going to keep this crazy Swedish bastard in line."

Dave glared at me, "Got it. Do the impossible."

Gagnon chuckled. 

"That's not all. We're going to your publicist's office right now to discuss your next move."

Then I scowled.

"Coach, I'm tired. I killed it on the ice. All I want is to head home so my trainer can put my legs on ice and give me a killer massage."

Gagnon glared, murder in his eyes. 

"Luc, don't argue," Dave suggested.

"Fine," I growled, "Let's meet with the publicist." 

"Good," Coach said, "10 minutes, 42nd Street." 

It wasn't possible to get down to 42nd Street in 10 minutes but I got the message: hurry down there and try not to piss anyone else off. Coach left for his car and Dave and I walked back into the locker room to shower and change.

We showered in silence. I could tell Dave was pissed at me. 

"Hey man, I'm sorry you got roped into this," I said, hoping to make peace as I dragged a comb through my thick, shoulder length brown hair.

"You've got to stop messing around Luc."

"I know."

"What was that stunt with Henrik about, eh?" "He's a punk."

"He's 19. He's just a kid. You should know better."

"Yeah, I keep getting that."

"Listen," Dave said, "I'm pissed at you but you can fix this okay? When you meet with Polly, she'll tell you what to do."

"Polly's an idiot."

"She's not an idiot. She's done PR for players up and down the coast."

"I said what I said." "Hey, I'll have Ramon pull the car around," Dave said.

I nodded. Sure. My car was stuck on the Upper East Side since I hadn't expected to be allowed to stay for practice. I followed Dave and we stepped into his car to drive to my publicist's office. Traffic was thick and we were way off Gagnon's ten-minute deadline. He stood outside the office, waiting for us with a scowl on his face.

We walked inside and were instantly buzzed upstairs to Polly Patterson's fifth-floor office. 

Polly's desk was absolutely covered in papers. When we walked in, she scrambled to push them all into a pile before searching for her tortoiseshell reading glasses amongst the mess.

"Come in, come in. Félix, Luc... Dave..."

She offered each of us chairs.

"So... what are we here to discuss?" she asked, pursing her thin, pink lips into a faint half-smile.

"Why don't you tell us? I can't escape this media shit storm and I need a way out."

Gagnon cleared his throat, "What Luc is trying to say is, we need to find out how you're going to fix this." "Ah. Right. Fix this."

Polly rifled through more papers on her desk, searching through them in vain.

"One moment, I have your case file right here..."

She shuffled more papers and a huge stack fell off her desk onto the floor. "Shit!" she huffed.

Dave, ever the gentleman, got off his chair to help clean them up. I didn't. I kept staring straight ahead at Polly, wondering how the hell this woman could keep it together enough to do her job.

"Polly, stop searching," I barked.

She stopped. Dave and Félix both stared at me. Dave knew what was coming, but it was clear Félix didn't. He probably thought it was just me being me, doing something wild and crazy again without thinking it through.

I stood.

"Without looking, tell me exactly what the problem is with my public image right now?"

"Um... Um..." 

Polly looked terrified. I didn't care. I was angry. I forked over $40,000 a month to her firm to keep everything straight for me and she couldn't even get me a straight answer to the simplest question I could ask. My eyes narrowed, the way they did when I focused on getting the puck into the net.

"Let me tell you what's happening here Polly. I've paid this company a total of $1,000,000 over the years to keep my public image spotless. I make money on the ice, but I also make money through brand sponsorships. Everyone in this room knows I'm a notorious fuck up. Your job is to squelch those fuck ups."

"Y-y-es Mr. Alfredsson, I'm aware."

"Let me finish," I interrupted, "Your job is to squelch these fuck ups and last week, boy did I fuck up. Didn't I Dave?"

"Yes Luc, you did." "I got on National Television and suggested that kids in America need more cigarettes. Yes, it was a spur of the moment joke that got out of hand but it was your job to stop it from getting out of hand."

Polly stared back at me with widened eyes as if she were about to cry. I hadn't even raised my voice yet. My nose wrinkled in disgust and I approached her desk, taking all the papers that were on it and sliding them off onto the ground.

"This is a mess," I growled, "A hot mess. I don't think you have what it takes to clean it up."

"I do!" she squeaked, "We strategized and came up with a plan."

"What kind of plan?" I asked, folding my arms.

Her lips trembled before she spoke.

"W-well, we thought you could make a charitable donation to a lung cancer fund."

Dave and Félix exchanged glances, accurately anticipating my anger. 

I roared, "I blew it on national television and the best you can do for me is tell me to make a quiet donation? Polly. Polly, I want you to look at me."

She avoided my gaze. I stalked up to the desk, balling my fists and resting them on her desk.

"Look at me," I growled.

Polly's lips quivered as she looked up at me.

"You can't fix this Polly. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. You can't fix this."

She whimpered as if she knew what would happen once she admitted me.

"Admit it!" I roared.

"I can't fix this," she mumbled.

"Tabernac!" Gagnon muttered. Dave frowned, his arms folded. "Luc, be reasonable," Dave suggested.

"No Dave, I won't be reasonable. Polly, you're fired. Dave, Félix, get me out of here before I wreck something." 

I pulled a photo off of Polly's wall and slammed it onto the ground. It shattered and she squealed.

"Luc!" Dave warned.

"I said get me out of here!"

They two men escorted me out. I was fuming. My fists clenched and my jaw tightened. I could feel heat pulsing in my chest, the same heat that flowed freely when I was about to deck some poor pathetic bastard on the ice. If I hadn't gotten out of there, who knows what I would have done.

We walked out onto the street, security hot on our tail from the mess I'd made in Polly's office.

"Did that go how you thought it would?" I asked Félix. "Bastard," he muttered, walking off without response to his car.

Even Dave seemed fed up.

"Be honest Dave. If Polly had looked you in the eyes and said that to you, what would you have done?"

"Fired her," Dave grumbled.

"Exactly."

"You don't think Luc," Dave continued to grumble, "She's gone now but you still have a massive problem on your hands. Did you think about how you're going to fix it?" "Not yet." 

"You'd better figure something out. We have a game and the press will be hot on your ass after the last time." "Yeah, I know."

"Figure it out, Luc. Don't fuck up again."

Dave’s frustration with me showed. Practice had been a nightmare and the meeting with Polly had gone even worse. I had a media firestorm blazing a trail behind me and I’d just fired my publicist. By all accounts, a terrible move. I’d be lucky if Félix let me on the ice after what I’d just done. Ramon pulled his car to the front of the building and we entered silently. Dave was right. I couldn't afford to screw up again. 

Amy Amy Amy

Amy Cooke

"CAN YOU PLEASE GET IT TOGETHER?! CAN YOU? MY WHOLE LIFE I FOUGHT FOR THIS. MY WHOLE LIFE. I BLED FOR THIS COMPANY. SO FOR ONCE, CAN YOU GIRLS HOLD IT TOGETHER."

I stared at Jude's face. If she were a paler hue, she could have turned purple. Her dark skin instead glistened with her anger. A vein popped out of her skull. Her short fade haircut highlighted her high cheekbones and her terrifying dark brown eyes.

"AMY!" She hissed, selecting me out of the crowd of terrified employees.

"Yes, Jude?"

"Can you please tell me who has the lowest account retention in this office and why."

My eyes widened. How the hell could Jude put me on the spot like this? "Uh... I can't say." "Really?" Jude asked.

Her question pierced me deep and her eyes bore into me with even more ferocious intensity. 

"Yes," I replied, "Really."

She stepped closer to me.

"I don't think so. Amy, I want you to answer me right now. Who has the lowest account retention in the company." "Julia."

"Right!" Jude hissed, getting close to Julia and causing me to sigh in relief.

Wednesday was the day before Jude's weekly therapy sessions, which meant she'd had six days of unfettered insanity before showing up to work. We'd all been walking on eggshells since morning. Julia was the wrong person for Jude to pick on.

"Julia, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Julia flipped her 26-inch weave out of her face and shrugged.

"Naw."

"NAW!?" Jude shrilled.

I stifled a laugh. Mallory was the only one in the office who wasn't holding back laughter.

"NAW?!" Julia repeated again.

Tianah excused herself from the room to stop herself from exploding with laughter and unleashing more of Jude's wrath on all of us.

"I mean," Julia shrugged, "What do you want me to say?"

"I want answers, Julia! Your fuck ups cost me MONEY! MONEY!" 

Julia shrugged, "Those clients were assholes." "OUR CLIENTS ARE NOT ASSHOLES! THEY ARE CLIENTS!" 

“I don’t know about that Jude…” Julia tried her again.

“JULIA LISTEN TO ME.”

Julia snapped quiet and stared at Jude's arms folded.

“Tell me right now why I shouldn’t fire you,” Jude hissed, low and serious.

“Because, the clients I do have, love me. Lana made $30 million with a Gatorade sponsorship last year that I hooked up. Lil Moose had a Billboard 100 hit and two Super Bowl commercials thanks to me.”

Jude exhaled and adjusted her button down.

“People love me,” Julia added, smiling a little too smugly.

Jude huffed, “That doesn’t make you untouchable.”

She relaxed her shoulders. For now, she’d been quieted. Julia’s fearlessness had a way of calming Jude all the way down.

“You all are dismissed. Mallory. Amy. Come with me.”

“Yes Jude,” we said together.

Mallory glared at me as if daring to speak at the same time that she had was a crime. We followed Jude back to her office. On the walls of Jude’s office were her three biggest accomplishments in life: her Stanford undergraduate degree, her Harvard MBA and the picture she had snapped with Drake from his 2015 tour.

Jude rounded the corner, sitting at her desk with a contemptuous look on her face. Julia just had to set her off. She smoothed her tweed Chanel suit before sitting and kicked off her red-bottomed heels. As she always did when she sat down, Jude reorganized her pens and adjusted the vase of fake pink peonies. Jude cleared her throat, closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

"1...2...3..." she mumbled.

"Jude," Mallory started before Jude could say a word, "I just have to say I'm disappointed in how things went out there. If there's any way the team can make it up to you, just say the word."

I glared at Mallory for offering up my free time in Jude's service. She smiled and flipped her wheat blond hair out of her face. Her bright green-eyes glimmered with a sick smugness. Jude stared on at her, musing over Mallory's words and her offer.

"No," Jude said, "That's not what I want. Amy?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Ma'am? Am I your grandmother?"

"No ma'-- Jude." "Good," Jude sighed, "Let's get started ladies. I have a difficult case ahead and I need to decide who would be best for the job."

Mallory edged me out of the way, shoving her elbow into my side as she approached Jude's desk. At six feet tall, Mallory had the impressive height of a model with the strength of a weightlifter. Her sandy, walnut colored skin had been subjected to a daily skincare regimen that left it smooth and impeccable. Her daunting height, her terrifying green eyes and her smug smile made her a force in the office.

I was the only person who wasn't afraid of her.

Jude stared at Mallory and smiled.

"I don't know Mallory. Amy, why don't you tell me what you've managed with Helen Myers?" 

"Uh, I don't know Jude..."

"Amy?" She tilted her head to the side, the way she did when she was angry.

"Yes?"

I avoided both "ma'am" and "Jude" this time.

"This humility crap? It's not good for you okay? My life coach always tells me you have to let your inner baby bird soar. So soar for me, Amy. SOAR!" 

I bit back a laugh and nodded.

"Right. Well, I've got Helen a speaking engagement at Manhattan College. She's been sponsored by Forever 21, H&M and Hilton Hotels."

"Wow," Jude replied, smiling genuinely, "That's pretty good Amy. See? You shouldn't be so afraid to speak your mind."

She smiled, a wide, manic smile and I nodded back, just trying to make it out of our pow-wow with my wig still securely attached. 

"Now Mallory, what about your Gen Weathers account."

Mallory's eyes widened. "Can't I tell you about Johnny Crystal?"

"No," Jude insisted, glaring now, "I want to hear about Gen."

Mallory's face went pale and I knew she was in trouble. Her notorious upper east side party girl socialite Gen had recently flashed her naughty bits to a Paparazzi while hanging at a dive bar in Brooklyn notorious for its mafia activity.

"I'm working on the situation, Jude. You know how difficult the Weathers' can be."

"Is that an excuse Mallory?"

Mallory's mouth widened into a pathetic little o. 

"No..." she whispered.

"You know Mallory, you could use a life coach. My life coach is always telling me to accept responsibility for what goes wrong in my life. That's why I've built this business -- the first PR firm to do $30 million in revenue a year owned by a black woman."

"Yes, Jude," Mallory mumbled. "Don't look so sad. Tell me what went wrong with Gen. Now."

"If I'd gotten her into Kylie's uptown daybreak party, she would have never been in Brooklyn."

Jude smiled. "Look at that. Responsibility. Doesn't it feel good?"

Mallory nodded.

"Despite this faux-pas Mallory, you still have four of the five top performing accounts in the company. Amy has the other one. So, why should I choose you over Amy?"

"Wait," Mallory narrowed her eyes, "Whose case are we talking about?"

"I won't disclose that until I decide who gets the job."

Mallory smiled, "You know what Jude? Why don't you give it to Amy? It's no fun being at the top without a little competition." 

Mallory winked at me. As I opened my mouth to protest, Jude slammed her palm down on the desk.

"It's settled then! Amy, the case is yours." "Jude, are you --"

"Amy, stop it! My life coach says that when opportunities come to you in life you must embrace them. Embrace them, Amy." "Fine," I nodded, inhaling sharply and trying not to tell Jude I thought her life coach was a load of bullshit, "I'll take the case."

Mallory's smile widened to the point where it was almost demonic. Her cat-like eyes lit up with glee. My stomach tightened. Had I just walked into a trap?

"Let's get you started then,” Jude said, "Our new client is Luc Alfredsson."

"WHAT?!" 

"Yes," Jude smiled, "Is that a problem?"

Mallory didn't hide her glee. She chuckled out loud and snorted until Jude glared at her.

"Amy, I asked you a question."

"It's not a problem. I'm just wondering why the hell you'd take that guy on."

Jude shrugged, "My life coach says I need to challenge myself more."

"What's more challenging than running a multi-million dollar company!"

Jude shrugged, "I don't abide by earthly limits, Amy. My guru is always telling me that."

I sighed, "Jude, with all due respect, Alfredsson is a loose cannon. He's a hockey player. He can get away with it. His audience likes offensive."

"Not anymore they don't," Jude replied, "He needs to clean up his act fast or New York will drop him like a hot potato."

"Who cares! He deserves it," I shot back, "He ran his mouth on national television saying kids needed to smoke cigarettes. He laughed about it. He's a douche bag."

Jude glowered, her dark brown eyes glowing with rage like hot coals.

"He's not a douchebag, Amy. Want to know why? Because he's our client. Your client specifically. I don't want to hear another bad word about Luc."

Mallory snickered again, going too far and drawing Jude's attention. Jude snapped her head to the side.

"Mallory, what are you doing here? Do you want me to put you on this client instead?"

"No ma'am," Mallory replied.

She hustled out of the office, whispering as she passed me, "Sucka!" 

I bit back a cuss word. Mallory might not know how to act at work, but I certainly did. I sat down across from Jude and sighed.

"Why me, Jude?" "You have potential Amy. You have big potential."

"I don't want to have potential," I whined, "I'm comfortable with my easy, no hassle clients."

"My guru tells me comfort and complacency go hand in hand."

Jude clasped her hands together and made a point of shaking them so I could tell how serious she was. Would this chick and her guru ever quit?

"Jude, can I be frank?"

"Of course Amy, we've known each other for years. I consider you my best friend."

Jude smiled and I could tell she was serious. We'd never hung out for work once and like everyone in the office, Jude's unpredictable moods terrified me. Best friend? She was tripping. She was also my boss and she paid me well, so I nodded along in agreement. Sure, we could be best friends if it meant she'd take my words seriously.

"Why are you taking on Alfredsson? You don't need the money. You don't need a challenge. He's a liability. We don't work with guys like him on purpose. You and I both know that."

Jude raised her hands in defeat.

"Okay, you've got me. Ulterior motive."

"Sure, what is it."

"Girl crush." "A girl crush!?"

Jude laughed out loud, a big belly laugh like she'd told the funniest joke in the world. "Just playing Amy. Girl crush? Are you serious? I'm done with dating in New York. The truth is, we need the boost. I'm not trying to build a business, I'm trying to build a lifestyle. I want us to have the reputation as being able to fix anybody, even an asshole like Luc Alfredsson."

"Is he really an asshole?"

"You'll find out this evening."

"This evening?" "Mhm," Jude nodded, "Drinks with him and his coach."

"Jude! I wanted to catch Scandal tonight," I whined.

"DVR it Amy, we're in the 21st century."

I sighed, "Okay fine. Drinks."

"Good," Jude said, "See you at 8 then. Here are the details of his case. He's got some tough people on his team, so have a look."

She slid a binder across her desk and I set it on my lap.

"He'd have to have a tough set of people on his team, wouldn't he?"

"Yes," Jude conceded, "As you said, he's a bit of a loose cannon, but I think you have what it takes to work with him."

"Why not Mallory?"

Jude snorted, "Mallory? Around a pro-hockey player? The first thing she'd do is spread her legs for him. I don't want that. None of us here want that. This is strictly professional Amy, got it?"

"Yes," I replied, "I got it."

"Good. Dismissed. See you tonight."

Jude allowed me to leave early so I could prepare for the meeting with Luc. I didn’t have time to do more than shower and change from my work dress to a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Jude warned me that Alfredsson was “the direct opposite of formal” and we should be aiming to impress effortlessly.

I scoffed as I got ready, thinking that Alfredsson should be trying to impress us and not the other way around.

I taxied all the way to the bar where we were meeting, a quiet and obviously unpopular spot in Little Italy. Jude and I were the first ones to show up.

“Is he late?” I asked as I slid into her booth.

“No, I told you to get here thirty minutes early.”

“Jude! I took a taxi here,” I retorted.

“And?” Jude said, “You’re on time, aren’t you. I didn’t want anyone messing this up.”

Jude dusted off my shoulders and fixed the collar on my button down.

“No lipstick?”

“This is a business meeting, not a seduction.”

Jude grinned, “That’s my girl. Play it cool. Maybe you’ll even come to respect him.”

I snorted, “I doubt it. I studied that case file. Girl, what are you thinking.”

Jude’s eyes narrowed, “I’m thinking… I’m the CEO of this company and I know what moves are going to be best for us. Now quit complaining, they’re here…”

I turned to look over my shoulder. A tall man who appeared to be about 60 years old with a haggard face entered. Not Alfredsson. Behind him was another man, shorter and stockier with dirty blond hair and a coiffed tailored suit. Also not Alfredsson. If my research served me correctly he was another player on the team, either Al Carlesson or Dave Tanner by the look of him. Following behind them, taller than both and bulkier, was Luc Alfredsson.

He appeared terrifying in real life than in pictures. Towering over all of us at 6’5”, I imagined he’d be close to 7 feet on his skates. He didn’t smile, he stuck his hand out to shake Jude’s. She shook his hand and introduced herself, pointing to me and introducing me afterward.

“This is Amy, she’s the best we have for PR slip-ups and she’s going to be taking your case.”

“Amy,” Luc greeted me, “Pleasure to meet you.”

I stuck my hand out to shake his, immediately struck by his blue eyes, which glimmered brilliantly in the orange lights of the bar. He was still sullen, visibly unimpressed but he sat down across from us. The fellow player accompanying him was indeed Dave Tanner and his coach, Félix Gagnon, sat adjacent to Jude with the scrunched look on his face of an angered bulldog.

Félix began, “Do you have a proposal ready for me?”

He sounded gruff, and impatient, exactly as you’d expect a professional hockey coach. His face had a few scars on it from broken bones and terrible scrapes on the ice.

Jude smiled, “Drinks first boys, business after.”

Luc smirked and Jude smiled at me coyly. She knew what she was doing. If we were going to be forced to take charge of the bad boy, we’d have to win him over. Jude ordered tequila shots for all of us. We downed the shots and she followed up with a round of margaritas before she settled us into business.

Jude unwound masterfully into business mode. She relaxed into her seat and her eyes grew intense and focused, the fires of passion that fueled her work burned beneath her gaze.

“Amy has studied your case in detail.”

“She has?” Luc asked, sitting up and clasping his hands together, giving me his full attention for the first time since he’d set foot in the bar.

I cleared my throat and sat up tall. I’d worked with men like Luc before. You had to let them know you could handle the task ahead and that you wouldn’t back down from a challenge.

“Yes,” I replied, “I have. And I have some ideas moving forward.”

“Already?” Félix asked suspiciously.

“Let her speak,” Luc said, “If what she comes up with is better than Polly, they’re hired.”

Dave nodded and leaned forward. Everyone fixated their attention on me and I had no choice but to stun. Luc Alfredsson had this instant ability to make me want to impress him.

“Children’s hospital,” I said, “If it’s alright with you, I have a cousin who heads Neurosurgery at the children’s hospital. If you came in, visited with the kids, took a few photos with fans along with administering a sincere apology, everyone will forget all about the incident.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. I stared at Luc, searching his eyes for approval or disapproval. No signs of either made themselves visible to me.

He grunted, “I like it.”

“You like it?” Jude asked.

“Yes,” he growled, “Consider it done.”

Dave tapped Luc on the shoulder, “Are you sure Luc? What the hell do you know about kids?”

Félix glared at Dave, “Enough. He’s in deep enough shit. If this young woman thinks a few photos will get him out of it, that’s gotta be good enough. How many hours do you have in mind?”

I calculated as fast as I could in my head.

“We could get him in this Sunday and have him in and out between two and six p.m.”

“Done!” Luc said.

Félix shrugged, “It doesn’t interfere with practice so I don’t see why not.”

Jude grinned and patted me on the back.

“It’s settled then?”

“Yes,” Luc replied, cracking a slight smile for the first time since he’d entered the bar, “It’s settled. Now let’s toast to my new publicist… Amy —”

“Amy Cooke,” I filled in.

“To Amy Cooke!”

Kids…

Luc Alfredsson

I thought Amy was dead wrong about hanging with dying kids being the way to boost my image. I hadn’t asked her for a winning idea, I’d just asked her to beat Polly’s and she had. Dave recognized my skepticism, but I was swept up in the reverie of a new hire and the potential of kicking this bad press to the curb. 

Before the hospital visit, I'd persuaded Tanner and Stamkos to come with me. Those stupid lugs could check me and step in if I screwed up again. But I wouldn't screw up again, not this time.

Firing Polly and seeing Coach get so angry forced me to acknowledge how much of a dick I was being. Henrik's face was still red where I'd hit him too and he'd gone three practices without saying a word to me. Félix and Dave were right. We're teammates at the end of the day. We should be looking after each other, not fighting. 

Dave brought his car around to my place at Félix's request. I think Félix wanted to make sure that I'd actually show up. Bastard. Why couldn't he trust me? I lace up my own skates after all. I didn't need his parenting.

"Ready?" Dave asked.

"Of course. How do I look? Media ready?"

"Where's your assistant?"

"Gave her the day off," I retorted. 

"Really? Today?"

I could read the frustration on Dave's tone but I didn't need looking after. 

"Yeah man," I slapped Dave on the back, "This is about the kids after all, isn't it?"

"Right," Dave replied, thrown off and confused, "Of course it's about the kids but listen, how are you going to make sure you don't say anything else on camera..."

"Hey man, this is all about the game. For the game, I'll do anything."

Dave nodded, satisfied.

"Try to stay out of trouble today, eh?" 

"For two hours? I think I can handle it."