Page 5 of On the Power Play

Mary finally stepped in. "Tony, I know your mother tongue is the language of love, but right now you're not making any damn sense."

Delia could hear his grin over the speaker. "You girls. My girls. I love how innocent you are." He clicked his tongue. "You do know it's entirely possible to have a relationship with someone—an intimate, soul-crushing love affair—and have the entire thing be for show, right? Did you think that Carson Hart and Lady V were together when she went to the Olympics? Or Emelio Sebin and Carrie Law? Darius and both his girlfriends? Celine Dion and René?"

"I'm pretty sure they had kids togeth?—"

"Pshaw, all for show. It got them somewhere they couldn't have reached by themselves. And you, my dear, need to climb."

Delia's heart kicked into a gallop. Her dating life had been nonexistent the past six months, not only because she'd become more recognizable, but also because she'd sworn off all online dating after a guy she'd been talking to for three weeks turned out to be wanted in two states and their lovely province of Ontario for multiple felonies. Mary had helped her dodge that bullet.

Her instincts couldn't be trusted. Plus, she enjoyed her quiet house far too much to sacrifice it for another blah night of superficial conversation. Which meant . . .

She tapped her fingers from pinky to pointer on the makeup counter. It was a good beat. The way it grew in volume from one end of her hand to the other. What was she thinking about? Delia retraced her mental steps.

Right. Tony. His new idea.

If she wanted her own time and online dating was her personal hell, then a fake relationship was kind of a perfect solution. Wasn’t it? She wouldn't have to talk to the guy outside of their arranged meet-ups. She wouldn’t have to give up her nights at home, and Tony did have a point that love stories were selling big at the moment.

But who would have that kind of star power, and why would a guy like that be interested in her?

Delia sat back on the stool and crossed her arms over the counter. "Alright, Tony. I’m listening. Who is it?"

Chapter Two

Each pull of Jack's laces spurred a slurry of bittersweet emotion. He sat in the dressing room of the ice arena that had become his home for the past five months. In one season, the Snowballs had become family, whereas he’d spent years with the Admirals and besides Flank and Rob, had never been excited to see any of them.

Now, he was leaving that newfound brotherhood. Not forever, he reminded himself. Though he'd be lying if he didn't admit he hoped for at least a few seasons.

"When do you sign your life away?" Brett tapped the side of Jack’s skate with his stick.

"Nine tomorrow morning." He cinched the laces and tied a rabbit-ear double bow, then straightened his back.

The Snowball's captain, Sean, shoved his empty equipment bag into his locker. "Your emancipation will be complete."

Jack exhaled. "I wish I could do both."

"Bud, could you imagine Wheatfill's whining if we won the tourney this year with a signed NHL player on our roster?" André picked up his helmet off the bench. "He already pitched a fit on the league boards about us snagging you in the first place."

Sean huffed. "It was open season. It's not my fault Wheatfill's too busy sleeping with other people's girlfriends to round out his team."

Tyler laughed. "Good thing you don't hold grudges for ten years or I'd be nervous."

Sean shot him a look, then lumbered toward the door holding his gloves, helmet, and stick. The rest of the team followed like ducklings, and as the chilled arena air hit Jack's face, an overwhelming sense of gratitude washed over him.

He was going to do this. Play hockey in the NHL. Even if it was only for a few months, at nearly thirty, he’d be playing on the biggest stage in the world.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch, Jack." Boyd clapped him on the back as they poured out onto the ice through the gap in the boards.

Country pulled his helmet on. "Not luck. He earned that spot."

"With a little help." Jack wouldn’t ever celebrate an injury, no matter who the player was. But if someone on the Blizzard was going to get injured, he was grateful it was their right winger. He’d never forget how the general public had rallied around him and clamoured for him to take the open spot on the roster, either.

"How could they not want to have your babies after that goal?" André spun in a circle on the ice, mimicking the play that Jack had watched on repeat. It was surreal. The move had been all instinct. Some players study the game, and some feel it in their bones. That was what his Juniors coach had always said.

Jack fell into a couple of laps around the rink, laughing when Country couldn't help but get competitive with the warm-up. Jack pushed faster, matching him stride for stride. "Compensating for something?"

Country grinned. "I have a huge penis."

"That's not what Jenna said last night."

---