Seduced by the Game (14 page)

“Love it. I prefer whites,
but I’ll drink a good robust red too. Don’t tell any of my hockey buddies, but
I prefer a good glass of chardonnay to a Budweiser any day of the week.”

“I feel the same way. I
have a glass of wine with dinner nearly every night. I’ve discovered the New
York State wines. There are some excellent wines made in the Finger Lakes
region.”

“Me, too! The New York
State Rieslings are famous everywhere now, which is pretty cool since I can say
I knew them when, so to speak.” He paused and seemed to be considering
something and she waited him out, curious. “I’ve been meaning to get up there
to visit some of the wineries during the Finger Lakes Wine Festival, but I never
seem to be able to make it. Maybe we could go together this summer.”

His invitation sounded
fantastic, but making plans for something months away scared her. What to say?

“Maybe. We could discuss
it more when the weather is better.”
How’s that for wishy-washy? Geez.
“It
is beautiful country up there.”

“Are you from New York?”

“Yes, I grew up in
Corning.”

“I think I know where that
is. I played a few games in the AHL in Binghamton before New York called me
up.”

The waiter came back for
their orders, and they had to beg off to look at the menu. They both picked out
an assortment of seafood and tempura and agreed to share in order to taste
everything. The waiter topped off their wine and then left.

“Where did you grow up?
You don’t sound like a native New Englander.”

“I grew up in a small town
in Minnesota called Red Wing and went to the University of Minnesota. Got
drafted out of college.”

“Red Wing? Like the
shoes?”

“Yes, exactly like the
shoes, actually.” He laughed. “They make them there.”

“What did you major in?
Basket-weaving?” She laughed, thinking she was teasing him, but he didn’t take
it lightly and his eyes looked wounded. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

“Not your fault. That’s
what everybody figures.”

She reached over and
touched his hand on the table. “Truly, I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing for
me to say. What did you really major in?”

“Economics. And then I got
a master’s degree in macroeconomics after I went pro. Those online classes come
in handy when you travel as much as I do.”

“Oh, wow. That’s serious
stuff.”

“I enjoy it. I manage my
own investment portfolio, and some of the guys have asked me to give them help
with theirs as well. I’d like to get my doctorate, but that’ll have to wait
until after I retire. It’d be a kick to have.”

“Dr. Scott Richards?”

“You know it. Maybe I’ll
become a financial advisor to athletes. So many get led astray because it’s not
something they ever learned about in school. As you probably know, a good
percentage of professional athletes never attended college, and oftentimes
those who did were passed no matter what their grade should’ve been.”

“I had no idea that was a
problem – you guys getting taken advantage of.”

“No one does. Anyway,
everyone figures I’m a pretty boy, dumb jock.”

“But you’re not. I can see
that now—not only your education, but the way you treat people. You sign
autographs for anyone and everyone; you’re courteous and friendly to other
people.” He turned red and she couldn’t help be charmed. Somehow knowing that
she’d embarrassed him made him hotter, if that was possible. And she felt like
she owed some compliments after her faux pas earlier.

Down, girl. Don’t climb
the man during dinner. It’s bad form.

“Did you major in art?”

“Yes. With a minor in
computer design, as in designing things
on
a computer, as opposed to
designing computers.” She laughed.

“Yeah. Can’t see you
designing motherboards for Apple. You’re way too pretty to be a nerd.”

“Thanks.” Now she tried to
stop a blush, without much more success than Scott. “Actually, my interest in
art started with the Corning Museum of Glass. I learned to design glass
figurines and stuff at workshops there. I do my computer art at work to get
money to invest in glass and dyes so I can make glass art at home. That’s my
real passion.”

“Fascinating. What kinds
of things do you create?”

“Everything, from little
figurines to vases and freeform sculptures. Right now, I’m working on a replica
of the Mayflower. It’s a challenge.”

His eyes got big. “No
doubt. In glass? I’d love to see that sometime. Must be a masterpiece.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but
it’s one piece I’m not going to sell. It stays with me.”

“Don’t blame you.”

Their sushi came just then
and conversation petered out while they systematically demolished every piece
of fish on the platters. It was fairly late by the time they’d finished and
Scott had called for the check. She’d been having a good time and almost hated
to leave, but he had such a strong personality, she was afraid of being drawn
in like red dye into her colorless glass. Scott took it well, though, giving
her a chaste kiss before seeing her all the way onto her train. Once it pulled
away from the station, Hannah sat, looking out the window, but really her brain
was focused on the past few hours. She had to admit Scott wasn’t like she’d
pictured him, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

When Hannah and Bethany
picked up their tickets Saturday night, she was amazed to find out they were in
the fourth row center near the blue line. She shouldn’t have been surprised. It
was the kind of thing he would do. No nosebleed seats for one of his guests.

They settled in and she
enjoyed seeing the ice from that vantage point rather from above where she sat
with Tammi and the other wives in Darren’s arena. The wives didn’t like to sit
too close, preferring to gossip and talk about their families while their men
dueled it out on the ice. The team came out, skating in seemingly endless
circles for a few minutes. Then they started some drills, and a few of them
stopped to stretch.

Scott skated to the boards
and lifted his leg to stretch his hamstring. He looked up and must have seen
her if his broad smile was any indication. As he continued to stretch, he kept
glancing up at her, as if to make sure she wasn’t running. Was he actually
surprised she’d shown up? Why did he seem so uncertain of her all the time? The
man was one of the biggest catches in the tri-state area, and yet he’d admitted
worrying she’d stood him up on Wednesday and seemed relieved now.

Bethany grabbed her arm in
a death grip. “Omigod! Scott Richards just smiled at you!”

“Yeah, I know. I met him
when I went to the locker room with Tammi after the All-Star Game.”

“You know him? Seriously?”

“Yep. He’s very nice.”
And
screws very nicely too
, she thought to herself.
He puts a lot of passion
in everything he does.
Then she realized where her thoughts were going and
blushed when she looked at Bethany’s admiring gaze.

Might as well fess up.

“He gave us these
tickets.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“I figured your boss at
the magazine gave them to you or something. Wow. Scott Richards. You go, girl!”

Oh, I did. Several times.
He made sure of that.

“He’s a good guy,” Hannah
said as she removed her coat.

“Oh, my God! You’ve got
his jersey!”

She decided not to tell
Bethany he’d given her that too, so she just smiled and turned her attention
back to the ice.

The team started to leave
the ice, one at a time, and Scott waved to her before he headed down the tunnel
to the locker room. By this time, some of the other fans had noticed their
byplay, apparently, and were staring at her as if wondering what was going on.

Hannah stood. “Come on.
Let’s get a snack before the game starts. At intermission it’ll be a mob
scene.”

They came back with sodas
for both along with popcorn for her and peanuts for Bethany just as the game
started. Now that she knew him, it was easy to pick out the man as Scott passed
the puck and alternately checked opposing players to steal it back if
necessary. He skated like the wind down the ice about halfway through the first
period, deked the goalie, and scored to make it 1-0. She jumped out of her seat
with her arms raised, caught up in the excitement. When she sat once more,
Bethany slanted a glance at her. “So, this is just a casual thing, right? Cuz
you’re definitely not wearing his jersey and sitting in seats he bought.”

Hannah decided it was best
to ignore her friend’s ribbing, save for rolling her eyes. Bethany laughed.

Play continued, and by the
beginning of the third period, the Stingrays were ahead 5-1. Scott had earned
an assist on the fifth goal and was controlling play as they headed for the
enemy goal yet again. He didn’t have a clear shot so he passed to another Ray
and started to swing behind the goal.

A huge defenseman from the
other team followed, slamming into him from behind. Scott’s head hit the glass
hard and his neck snapped back. He fell to the ice like a ragdoll and lay
motionless on the ice as pandemonium reigned over his head. Two of the
Stingrays dropped their gloves and attacked the offending player, driving him
to the ice as another enemy player jumped on their backs and tried to pull them
off.

They all landed on Scott
and the referees pulled everyone away so the trainers could get to him. He lay
still for at least thirty seconds before the trainers managed to rouse him with
smelling salts. Hannah could tell he was trying to get up, but the trainers
held him down as they motioned back toward the bench.

Hannah chewed her nails to
pieces as tears slid down her face while she watched them transfer him gently
from the ice to a stretcher. Just the fact they’d brought one out made her want
to puke. He said something to the EMTs and they pulled it over in her
direction. As they passed, he raised his hand as if to reassure her, and a weak
smile covered the pain for an instant.

She waved cheerfully back
and then stood as if to leave.

“Where are you going?”
asked Bethany.

“To the locker room. I
have to make sure he’s all right.”

“They won’t let you in
there. You’re not his wife or a relative. Even if you were, they might not let
you in.”

She sank back down to the
edge of the seat and started in on her nails again. Bethany was right. “What am
I going to do?”

Chapter Four

Hannah stood in the atrium
after the game, texting and calling Scott, who still wasn’t answering. Finally
she called Darren.

“Did you see the game?”

“No. We played at five
o’clock. I just got home. What happened?”

“Scott got hit and was
knocked out and I can’t get a hold of him and I’m starting to panic.” The words
came out in one long streak, and she paused to take a shaky breath.

“He’s a pretty tough
customer, hon.”

“Then why isn’t he
answering his phone?” Hannah’s voice broke on the last word. How had she come
to care for him this much in a week?

It must be the hit. I’m
worried about him like any friend would be.
Hannah snorted to herself.
Yeah, feed
yourself more lines. Maybe you’ll even start to believe them.

“If you want, I can call
over there. Not sure if I’ll be able to get anywhere, but if it would make you
feel better I’ll try.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Where are you now?”

“In the atrium. I-I
couldn’t leave.”

“Okay, stay put and I’ll
call you back. Are you alone?”

“Yes. My friend who came
to the game with me had to leave.”

“I want you to go talk to
one of the security guys. Tell him you’re Scott’s friend and that you’re
waiting for news on him so they’ll keep an eye on you.”

Hannah agreed and hung up,
doing what Darren asked. The young man in the navy blue sport coat with a patch
that read Security looked at her with eyes full of pity, probably figuring she
was some love-struck fool. And maybe she was, but she’d think on that later.
Now she needed to know if Scott was all right.

The phone rang. With a
trembling hand she lifted it to her ear.

“Hello? Hannah?”

“Scott?”

“Yeah. I prob’ly sound
funny. They gave me pills. I have a little headache.”

“I saw. Are you all right?
Did they take you to the hospital?”

“Nah. Got an X-ray here.
’s fine.”

“You’re telling me you got
driven into the boards headfirst from some Godzilla-like defenseman and yet
you’re fine?” Hannah realized now she sounded hysterical.

But Scott laughed. “I
gotta ’member to call Manzus Godzilla next game. He’ll like that.”