Page 7 of Press Your Luck

"Naomi, while Coach Jackson suggests we’re being misogynists, the truth of the matter is that you are the first woman to be coaching a men’s minor-league hockey team. Even around town, there’s speculation about why Mr. Marshall would've hired you, knowing that there was going to be pushback."

"The only difference between men and women in hockey has to do with biology or physiology. Everything else—tenacity, commitment, mental fortitude—I might argue that women excel over men in those areas. Women have had all of humankind to deal with a society that sees them as mentally and emotionally fragile. It's in a woman's DNA to prove otherwise."

Bravo, Naomi. I’d known she was a force on the ice, but I could see she had it off the ice as well. I could see why Marshall hired her.

"From where I stand, Coach Withers has a huge advantage that none of you have pointed out." Todd Marshall, who had been leaning against the wall, stepped forward. "Naomi is young, energetic, and innovative. Coach Jackson... well, let's just say he's getting a little long in the tooth."

Oh, hell no. Did he just call me old?

"I'm surprised at your ageism, Marshall," Reed piped up. "I do believe you’re older than Coach Jackson."

Marshall gave an affable smile. "That's probably true, but I'm not coaching the team. My young, vivacious, experienced Coach Withers is."

By now, the whole room was looking back at Reed and Todd.

Reed rolled his shoulders, and inwardly I groaned because I knew whatever was going to come next out of his mouth was going to be something I'd regret. "I tell you what, why not make a friendly wager?”

Oh, God, here it comes.

"At the end of the season, whichever team has lost the most games, that team’s owner has to donate $50,000 to the charity the winningest coach selects."

"You're on." Todd thrust his hand out toward Reed, and they shook on it.

I turned to look at Naomi, shaking my head and rolling my eyes.

She leaned closer to me, and I was able to catch her scent, a mixture of vanilla and spice. It was intoxicating.

"Are they doing this because we’re Nevada, the leading center of gambling, or is this the usual thing?"

"It's Reed’s thing. The guy won the love of his life by having a friendly wager with her."

She gave a short nod and straightened.

"Would you be willing to share what you were just discussing with Coach Jackson?" someone from the room called out to us.

Naomi answered for us. "No."

All eyes in the room turned to me. I stared back at them, saying nothing.

As the press conference wound down, I realized that now I was pitted in a wager against Naomi, which the more I thought about it, the more it bugged me. The woman had been starring in a few too many fantasies of late, but seeing her in person and sitting here next to her, watching her deal with misogyny, my interest in her grew. She was smart and assertive and so strikingly sexy. The lure for me was enough that I might have wanted to pursue something, assuming she’d be interested. But now, that option was off the table. It was one thing to be on rival teams, but when $50,000 was at stake, that put a real wrench in things.

Maybe that was just as well. She was clearly focused on doing her job and not on extracurricular activities. And the fact remained that I was still significantly older than her. I wasn't too interested in being the clichéd older man with the much younger, sexy woman.

When the conference ended, we both stood, and I extended my hand again.

"Good luck tomorrow," I said.

She shook my hand, and those shrewd hazel eyes stared into mine. "You're the one who is going to need the luck, Coach Jackson." She turned and strode out of the press room.

It was wrong, but I watched because she was so fucking sexy. I buttoned my coat to hide the evidence of my admiration for her.

4

Naomi

Iwasn't sure which was more annoying, seeing Pierce Jackson for the first time and all my girly parts getting excited by what they saw, or all the sexist questions tossed at me. Actually, the sexist questions were probably more annoying because like any woman, I wanted to be taken seriously.

But I couldn't deny the surprise at my reaction to meeting Pierce for the first time. I guess I'd been expecting him to look like a middle-aged man with a growing potbelly. Oh, sure, I'd seen pictures of him where he’d looked handsome, but pictures were often deceiving. Most that I’d found were years old at the end of his hockey career and usually with a woman draped around him. Some were when he started coaching, but that was nearly a decade ago. Since then, he hadn’t been in the media much. Interviews he did for the team didn’t include pictures or video of him. It was usually Bo Tyler getting all the attention. All that to say, I wasn’t expecting the epitome of a sexy, distinguished man to enter the press conference. I knew he was in his forties, but I wouldn’t have guessed that by looking at him. His dark hair had a few grays, but they weren’t very noticeable. His blue eyes were crystalline and friendly, and for a moment, I was mesmerized by them. But he was my rival, so I quickly tamped down the flutters of attraction.

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