Chapter 3
RAIN
Minneapolis
It was a nice restaurant. I recognized it as my Uber dropped me off, thankfully right out front. It was mid-October and getting chillier at night. The wind didn’t help, but then again, this was Minnesota. It could be fifty degrees one day and a blizzard the next.
Inside, there was very little light. The place seemed to be running mostly on candles, giving it a cozy and romantic atmosphere. I supposed the low lighting also allowed for more privacy, an added draw for high-end clientele.
“Ms. Connors?” A man in a business suit stepped forward from a corner as I unwrapped my scarf. He held a hand out for me. “Mal Benoit. I’m the one you’re meeting.”
Benoit. The name was familiar, but I couldn’t place him right away. That annoyed me. I was used to knowing all the players in my professional niche.
I gave him a polite smile, a small nod. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Benoit.”
He was a handsome man. He wore no wedding ring, but sometimes that didn’t mean anything. White. Mid to older thirties. Six feet. Maybe six two? Broad shoulders. Lean waist. He had the build of an athlete. And dark brown hair he kept a little long.
As the restaurant’s host led us to a table, Benoit walked in front of me, and I glanced down.
I wasn’t usually one to check out my potential male clients, though it wasn’t that I couldn’t appreciate when they looked nice, as Mal did with a youngish face and a decent jawline.
He was handsome, and his eyes were shrewd and intelligent.
But it was his round ass that triggered something in me.
That was a hockey ass.
I’d spent too much time with men who had similar asses. Dread took root in me, and I tried to hold it off. Mr. Benoit’s rear might not indicate what I worried was coming.
Our table was in the corner, with the closest patrons five tables away, guaranteeing privacy. I wondered if he had requested this level of seclusion. Either way, I readied myself as I slid into the booth. He followed, sitting across from me.
The host left, and our server was at our side almost immediately. She brought water and asked for our drink orders. Her smile heated as she eyed Mr. Benoit. He was catnip for her. To his credit, he didn’t react. He asked what I’d like to drink, and I requested coffee.
She was either interested in him because he was good looking and well-off, which was obvious, or because she knew him already. I gauged her as she went to another table where a similarly good-looking man was dining. The extra warmth was missing from her demeanor.
Okay, then. That told me she knew Mr. Benoit and what she knew about him made him appealing to her.
He’d been quiet, letting me look around the place before my gaze returned to him.
As it did, he smiled and relaxed into his seat.
“I was told you were like this.” He reached for his water and paused, considering me a moment before he took a sip.
“You don’t miss much, do you? You scope out every detail.
Is that what makes you so good at what you do? ”
I measured his words, wondering if there was derision in them. I worked with mostly men. Some actively did not want women to be their equals, but I couldn’t find any hint of that in Mr. Benoit. Still, I couldn’t relax. I picked up my own glass of water.
His eyes sparked, noting my gesture.
Yes. He knew what I was doing, meeting him where he was. Some people did it unconsciously, matching the other person to make them feel comfortable. I did it consciously, and he was aware of this.
I’d been watching for some weakness in him but hadn’t found any. I needed something that would help me categorize Mr. Benoit and prepare me for what this meeting was about.
“Is that something Justin told you about me?” I asked.
An emotion flickered in his gaze before he took another sip, then set his water back down. “No. I—”
He paused as the server returned with our drinks—along with her hopeful catnip smile. “Mr. Benoit, your bourbon. And, Ms. Connors, your coffee.” She glanced my way before leaving.
She wasn’t cold to me. She was merely indifferent. I was not her endgame.
I sighed and sat back. “Did you play professionally or in college? Hockey, I mean.”
He sputtered into his bourbon and his eyes went wide before he schooled his features back to faint amusement.
“Professional for five years.” He leaned closer, the corner of his mouth lifting up.
“Was it my ass that gave it away? I knew I shouldn’t have walked in front of you. Though I am proud I still have it.”
I didn’t comment on that, instead saying, “You wouldn’t give me your name before today. And I’m not a fan of small talk. Why don’t we cut to the chase, and you tell me why I’m here. Please tell me it does not have to do with hockey. I don’t work with hockey.”
One of his eyebrows shot up. “Teams as a whole or players individually?”
“Anything with hockey. I don’t do it.”
He nodded but still gave nothing away. “But you know hockey. You know it very well. Don’t you?”
I tensed. I wasn’t a secret, but no one in my family went around telling people who I was. In the hockey world, I was considered a nobody.
When I didn’t respond, he added, “You work mostly with football. American football.”
I gave a short nod. Everything about Mr. Benoit told me he’d done his research thoroughly. If he knew my history with hockey, he knew about the professional football teams I’d worked with, as well as the individual players. “If you please, Mr. Benoit—”
“Call me Mal.” He groaned, shaking his head. “My dad is still very much alive, and I expect him to be behind me every time you say that name.”
Fine. “Why am I here, Mal?”
“You have two brothers who play in the NHL, a captain for Montreal and a center for Boston. Are they the reason you don’t work in the hockey world?”
My lips parted, because damn. That was hella personal. That was also some serious research skills for whoever found the connection. I was estranged from my brothers and our father for a reason.
Our server approached again. Mal held up his hand, holding her off.
Irritation spiked in me. He had controlled everything about this meet.
I wasn’t prepared to have him bring up my family.
“Yes, Mr. Benoi—”
“I told you—” he began. He said it nicely, but I caught a hard edge in his smile.
“To call you by your first name,” I interrupted.
“But I’d rather not, because I don’t know you, Mr. Benoit.
You have kept me in the dark this entire time, and yet you feel you have the right to bring up my family.
You want to mention my brothers? Let me know that you’re aware of my connection to them?
” I shook my head. “I’ll meet your ante using the only card I know I have.
I’ve asked the reason for this meeting, and if you don’t provide it right now, I will leave.
” I leaned forward. “I am good enough at my job to know that I do not need to be here if you’re going to waste my time. ”
His chest rose as he drew in a breath, but then he nodded, as if coming to some decision. “You’re aware that Minneapolis has two NHL teams?”
I leaned back. “I’m aware.”
“Even though the Grays began a decade ago, they’re still considered new to the NHL—as well as to the city itself.
I represent the Grays. And you’re correct, Ms. Connors.
I’m aware that you worked with Philadelphia for two years before they went to the Super Bowl, and they’ve made the playoffs ever since.
I’m also aware that you worked with Baltimore before they, as well, got to their divisional championship game.
I know how many individual players you’ve worked with, including a certain football prodigy who struggled his first two years in the NFL before moving to a new team where he’s their starting quarterback, and they’ve won their last five games. ”
He dropped all pretense, leaning forward.
“I have a team with the talent, the right coaching staff, and good upper-managerial support. We have a motivated owner and possibly unlimited resources at our fingertips, within the league’s rules, of course.
” He sighed. “I have everything on the list for a great hockey team playing at an elite level, but they’re not.
And the new owners want this team to start winning.
I’m here to make that happen. I believe, Ms. Connors, I have a problem right up your alley of expertise. ”
From the moment he’d mentioned the team he represented, I’d been running through what I knew about them. It was very little, which pained me, but I stayed away from the hockey world. All of it.
The Grays would play against my brothers’ teams. Did I want to expose myself to that?
Then again, with my job, I could stay hidden in the background.
It was feasible that they would never know I’d been connected to a hockey team and therefore connected to them in some small way.
The nights they played the Grays, I wouldn’t need to be present.
There were times I didn’t attend my clients’ games. Not many, but there had been times.
My stomach twisted with intrigue and fear. “What exactly are you asking of me?”
He smiled. “I want you to work your magic. This morning, I received a phone call that’s—well, I can’t say yet what it’s about.
But I almost fell off my chair when I heard who might be interested in coming to us.
If he pans out, we have a real shot at the Cup this year.
I want everything to start moving forward for us.
I think you can help ensure that happens, in whatever way you do that. ”
“And what’s your role here? You have the authority for this?”
A hint of a smirk showed before he hid it, but he nodded. “I have the authority.”
I waited, but he didn’t say anything more.
“Restrictions?” I asked.
He shook his head. “There are none. We’ll work with you. We’re ready to give you the tools and assist you in any way so you can be effective with the team. The faster the better, as far as we’re concerned.”
Jesus. This was an ideal job. No restrictions? None? There were always some.
What was the catch? Because there was always a catch. Well, already this was a hockey team. An NHL team, which was a catch for me, but I knew another catch was coming. I could feel it in my gut. “If you really want me to help—”
“I do. We do.”
“My methods are… I’m a woman. Certain barriers will be there. I’ll have to find a way to disarm them, bring down their walls. I won’t be micromanaged. If I’m doing something you don’t understand, I don’t care. I will not explain it to you—”
He shook his head. “I already said there are no stipulations.”
I paused. Well, good. Moving on. “Pay?”
He reached into his pocket to pull out an envelope and slid it across the table to me.
“We have it separated. A signing bonus now, plus base pay and a list of additional bonus options if we win a certain number of games, et cetera. A rather hefty payment if we go to the playoffs this year, and of course, if we get the Cup.” He grinned at me.
“But you’ll see that the base pay should be more than enough. ”
I took the envelope, but I didn’t open it. Honestly, when was the other shoe going to drop? “I need to do my own research, look into the team before I can make a decision.”
“Of course.” His grin faded. “Why don’t you take the weekend? Come to the games on Friday and Sunday? Let me know your decision Monday morning.”
“Who are you playing?”
He named two teams I’d once enjoyed watching. It had been so long since I’d let myself watch and enjoy hockey.
“If I agree to take this job, I will be excused from attending any games that involve my brothers’ teams. That would be a stipulation. No one can know my connection to them except you and those who are already aware. Who else knows in your organization?”
He straightened, a keen look on his face. “Only myself and the investigator I hire to do all my research.”
“The coaching staff?”
His lips pressed together, and he shook his head. “They’re not currently aware.”
“No one. I mean it, no one. The players. Your assistant. The press team. No one. Social media team.”
“The owners?”
“No one besides those who already know.” I waited, holding my breath, because so many would want to know why. This was a hint at juicy gossip. But after giving me a long and considered study, Mr. Benoit dipped his head in a nod. “That’s fine.”
I liked that so I said, “Box seat for Friday. Not with the WAGs. Other than that, I don’t care where or how nice of a box it is. I just need to see the team from a decent distance away.”
“That’s easy enough.”
“And right next to the rink for Sunday’s game—where your team starts in the goal if there’s a single seat available.” I wanted to watch the way they moved together tonight, and then on Sunday I wanted to be able to see their eyes when they played.
“Done. I can do that.” He nodded and must’ve given some sort of signal because the server began weaving through the tables toward us again. “You never touched your coffee, but do you know what you’d like to order?”
I considered leaving, starting my research now, except Mr. Benoit seemed eager to assist me in any way, so I nodded instead.
When the server approached, I asked for one of their salads, along with a side of roasted vegetables and a glass of wine.
He ordered a steak, and his eyes held a hint of approval after she left. “You drink red wine?”
I smiled. I didn’t normally, but today, I would.