Page 3 of Cold Feet
"Not girlfriend," Ryan corrected. "Fiancée."
The room fell silent.
"I'm sorry," I said slowly, fighting to keep my voice level. "Did you just suggest I fake an engagement to one of my own players? The media would crucify us when they found out it was fake."
"Ifthey found out," Ryan amended.
"When," I corrected firmly. "This is the NHL. Everything leaks eventually. Youknowthat Ryan."
"Six weeks, " Marcus spoke up, his voice gravelly but firm. " A few months, tops. Play nice for the cameras at the awards, let the deal get signed, then quietly break up in the off-season. Clean and simple."
"What about my brother?" I looked directly at Cam for the first time since this nightmare began. "Zayne would literally murder you. With his bare hands. On television."
"I'll handle Zayne," Marcus said confidently.
"Good luck with that," I muttered under my breath. Zayne had made it abundantly clear to every player he'd ever played with since Pee Wee that his sister was off-limits. Period. Full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, do not even think about Lana Decker unless you wanted to become intimately acquainted with the business end of his stick. The fact that he and Cam were not only teammates but best friends would make this even more complicated.
"Look," Sully finally joined the conversation, sliding my coffee closer like he sensed I needed the reinforcement. "Nobody's forcing anything here, Lana. Your job's not on the line, and we'll respect whatever you decide. But this deal..." He shook his head. "This could change everything. For Cam, for the organization, for hockey."
I looked at Cam, who'd been suspiciously quiet during this part of the conversation. “And you’re on board with this plan?”
Those pale cobalt eyes held mine steady, and for just a moment, I saw past the careful control to something that looked almost... vulnerable. "I don't see another way," he said simply.
I closed my eyes, trying to think clearly. This was professionally questionable at best, ethically murky at worst. And personally? A disaster waiting to happen.
"I'll have an answer for you tomorrow," I said finally. “But I’m not committing to anything until I’ve thought through every possible angle.”
Sully nodded, recognizing that was the best he'd get. As everyone filed out, Cam lingered by the door.
"You're really considering this?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
"I'm considering every option," I corrected. "That's my job."
"You created this problem, you know." No heat behind it, just tired resignation.
"And you were perfectly happy to play along when it was selling out arenas and getting you the cover ofSports Illustrated."I stood, gathering my things with sharp efficiency. "Maybe next time mention your secret ambition to be a sneaker mogul before I turn you into hockey's answer to Harry Styles."
A genuine laugh escaped him. "Deal."
I brushed past him toward the door, but he caught my elbow before I made my escape. His hand on my skin sent an unwelcome shock right through me.
"Lana." The way he said my name made me stop. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
We were standing too close now. Close enough that I could see the small scar above his left eyebrow from a high stick two seasons ago. Close enough to remember things I'd spent a decade trying to forget.
"I'll let you know tomorrow," I managed, pulling my arm free.
As I reached for the door, his voice stopped me one last time.
"Lana? If we do this... be my fiancée, not girlfriend."
I turned back,confused. "Why?"
The smile that spread across his face was pure Cam Murphy – devastating, confident, and entirely too knowing.
"Because if you're going to lie, Lana Banana, you might as well make it a good one."
The ridiculous nickname he'd whispered against my neck one night ten years ago hit me like a slap shot to the chest.
