Chapter One #3
She entered her office and made a beeline for her desk. Maybe if she put some space between them, kept him on the opposite side, she’d be able to focus. It was obvious he didn’t remember her, and there was no way she was mentioning their history.
Besides, she was a professional, and she would darn well act like it. This business, her and Em’s future, was too important to let something so stupid jeopardize her success.
She lowered herself into her chair. “Please, have a seat.”
He walked to the chair facing her desk and sat down. She could tell by the stiffness in his gait that his knee was bothering him. It probably wasn’t something anyone else would notice, but she’d spent most of her adult life studying the human body and the way it moved.
And now, she was totally staring.
He slid his hand over his knee, as if trying to shield it from her. She flicked her gaze to his face. There was challenge in his blue eyes, like he wanted her to say something. She refused to be baited. Or intimidated.
“You’re barely four months out from surgery, Nick. And, I’m assuming you’ve got a full staff of professionals at your beck and call. I’m not sure why you’re here.”
He leaned forward, planted his elbows on his knees. “I need to get back in the lineup. Sooner the better.”
She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her desk, mimicking his pose. “Somehow, I don’t think your physician is okay with this.”
The side of his mouth twitched. “I’ve been cleared for training. It’s all good in that respect. And I’ve got my medical file with me, so you can take a look. Or you can contact the doctor directly, if you want.”
Impressive. She liked that he was prepared. And being honest with her. That still didn’t answer the most important question, though.
“Great, that would be helpful.” She waited a beat. He just continued to stare. Fine, if he wanted to play this game, she’d be crystal clear. “I still don’t understand why you’re here. In my office.”
He shifted back in the chair, legs spread, arms loose, although there was still a tightness in his neck and shoulders.
As if he was trying to relax, but couldn’t quite get there.
He tapped his left index finger against his knee in a rapid beat.
“The team strength and conditioning coach and I have different views on what constitutes success.”
The slight deepening of his voice sent a strange tingle through her. One she was absolutely not examining.
“Besides, at this point, I’m really looking for some one-on-one training. I’m ready. We can take it slow, if you want. But I need to get back in game shape, back on the ice.”
“What’s the rush?”
He sat up straight and ran his fingers through his hair.
She could almost see his muscles twitching underneath his skin.
The air of restlessness around him deepened.
His jaw tightened, turned to stone. Fire and determination burned in his gaze, turning his eyes the color of the ocean during a storm. The change was fascinating.
And then, he looked away, studying the filing cabinets next to the door, and she could breathe again. Which was good. Air was good.
She took the moment to study him. The years had been good to him. He’d filled out, his shoulders had widened, his chest had broadened. There was a maturity to his features now. His jaw and cheekbones were sharper. He’d gone from cute teenager to handsome man.
He turned back to face her suddenly and her cheeks went up in flames. She’d been staring like a moony teenager with a crush. She needed to get a grip, and fast.
If he noticed her staring like an idiot, he didn’t let on. “I need to be back in the lineup before the playoffs start. I can’t miss them.”
There was a hint of desperation in his voice. If she hadn’t been paying such close attention, she probably would have missed it.
He sighed and tucked his chin to his chest. The bright overhead lights glinted off his ginger-colored hair. In that moment, he looked so defeated, her heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze.
It didn’t make any sense. He was a professional athlete, making more money every year then she’d probably make in her entire life. But then, as annoying people liked to say, money couldn’t buy happiness. It’d be nice if she got a chance to test the theory herself, though.
She stood and walked around the desk so she could lean against the front of it, but not quite directly in front of him. Why she’d moved closer, she had no idea. Maybe it had something to do with the slump of his shoulders, or the overwhelming need to comfort him. Maybe she was just being nostalgic.
He lifted his head. The seriousness and desperation in his expression felt like a stab with a hot knife. “Say you’ll take me on as a client. Please.”
“Nick—”
“I can pay you upfront, if that helps. Or, we can renegotiate your fees. I mean, I get that this might lead a bit of a change up in your plans or schedule or something, but I can totally make it worth your while.” He pushed to his feet.
She had to tilt her head back to look at him.
“Because I’d really prefer you not take on any other serious client’s while we’re working together, which means, I’ll need to compensate you for that, as well. ”
The sentences ran together, as if he was afraid that if he stopped, she’d turn him down. Which she should. Ultimately, this might turn out to be a huge mistake, especially if she couldn’t give him the results he wanted in his ridiculous timeframe.