She wouldn’t, though. In the first place, she’d used the corporate tuition-matching program to cut the cost of her education in half. If she quit she’d owe that money back. But more importantly, she didn’t want to leave either Nate or his company. Even if getting a new job with more responsibility elsewhere would be a thrill, Nate paid her really well to run his C-suite. And she wanted the stability of her seniority there when she became a single mother.
Nate’s company was one of the few in Manhattan to offer on-site day care, too. The first thing she planned to do after getting a positive pregnancy test was to register on the waiting list for a spot. Unlike so many other working women, she’d be able to swing by the nursery and breastfeed her baby. Given all that she’d read on the mommy forums she’d begun trolling, that luxury was worth its weight in gold.
Maybe Nate didn’t know it, but Lauren was about to become the most loyal employee who ever lived. She nibbled on her roll and checked the private jet’s flight plans for Beijing again.
And tried really hard to forget about Mike Beacon’s smile.
SIXTEEN
TAMPA, FLORIDA
MAY 2016
Two days later, the team did only a short practice in Tampa, to keep the guys rested before game two. But Beacon spent some extra time with Silas and the goaltending coach, practicing drills and reviewing strategy.
Silas looked good, too. No matter what Coach fired at him he stayed cool, deflecting puck after puck with a Zen-like concentration.
“You were killing it out there,” Beacon said as they got dressed after showering. They were the last two in the locker room. Their teammates were already watching tape in the conference room. “You feel good?”
“Sure. But I always feel good in practice. I don’t blow it until later,” the kid grumbled. He was probably thinking back to his last time in the net—in February. Mike had gotten a touch of food poisoning and Silas was called in last minute. The game had been a total disaster.
“Hey,” Mike said, squeezing the kid’s shoulder. “Don’t talk yourself down. It’s not like you to get all mopey. You’re a better team player than that. I heard you were doing great in Hartford this spring, too.” Though it was unlikely the kid would mind the net at any point during the play-offs, unless Mike got hurt.
Silas grit his teeth. “Did pretty good in Hartford. But my expectations were pretty low, so I wasn’t a basket case, you know? I didn’t used to be that guy who cracks under pressure. But now that I know how it feels to be that guy, I don’t know how to shake it off.”
“You go back to basics,” Beacon said. “You remind yourself there’s never been a goalie with a hundred percent save average. Never. That’s what I tell myself every time someone scores on me.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. Because if I stand there and worry about it, I’m not doing my job for the team. My job isn’t to feel bad about what just happened. My job is to make the next save. And I can’t do that if I’m beating myself up.”
Silas made a grunt of acknowledgement. Beacon thumped the kid on the back and left the lockers, ducking into the conference room where the rest of his team was watching video from their first game in Tampa. They’d lost 2–1, but they weren’t disheartened. Not yet. They’d fought hard, and their opponent had gotten lucky with both unlikely bounces of the puck and with the ref’s calls.
Tampa was crackable. Everyone knew it.
“Look,” Coach Worthington said as he pressed Pause on the footage. He pointed at the screen. “That’s a little sloppy right there. It’s the same story we’ve been looking at all morning. This team has had terrific success the last couple of years, and everyone expects great things from them. But they look stressed out and it shows in their skating.”
He turned, and his gaze took in every man in the room. “We can do this. It isn’t about skills anymore. And it isn’t about the stats. We’ve got those already, and we’re pretty healthy, too. The team who wins this series will be the team who believes it can. It’s going to be about heart, and about faith. I have mine.” He put a hand to his chest. “Right here. So I need you to show me yours tonight. Bring it with you from this room, and carry it with you onto the ice.”
Mike lifted his gaze to the frozen players on the screen—to Tampa’s center lunging for the puck. Coach was right. These guys were hungry, but their hunger had a wild-eyed desperation to it. They feared coming close to the Cup yet another year, and then failing in the clutch.
He could work with that.
“Beacon,” Coach said. “Something on your mind?”
“Yeah.” He must have been smiling. “I think you’re right, Coach. They’re feeling the strain. We can use it. They’re gonna fight dirty, though. Be ready for that, guys.”
“Yeah.” O’Doul nodded from across the table. “So I think we try to keep our noses clean for the first period tonight. Neither Crikey or I will throw down, even if we’re baited early. I think it’ll make ’em crazy if we hold off a bit. Let these guys simmer.”
A chuckle moved through the room, and several players nodded.
“I like it,” Coach said. “Cooler heads prevail, and all that. We’re back on our home ice after this one, too. The tide is about to turn in our favor. I can feel it. And now I want you boys rested. Go upstairs and take a nap, okay? Turn your phones off. No caffeine. We’ll see you at five thirty for yoga.” He stood up, and the meeting was adjourned.
He headed outdoors instead of upstairs. Most guys would order room service and then try to sleep. But he was too keyed up, so he went out to the poolside tiki bar and ordered a grilled chicken sandwich. He ate it watching sports highlights on TV—including video of himself making a couple of saves.
“What do you think?” the kid tending bar asked, topping up Mike’s ice water glass.
“Coulda gone worse,” he said.
The kid grinned. “I’m rooting for you guys.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Grew up in Jersey.”
“Well, thanks.” Though it was probably a ruse meant to improve his tip.
“Don’t mention it.”
When he was done, Mike left the kid a generous tip, no matter who the kid was rooting for. He still wasn’t sleepy, but the rows of aqua-blue lounge chairs beckoned to him. Carrying his water glass with him, he bypassed all the ones facing the pool in favor of a row in the distance. That spot looked more private, so he headed over, hoping to find it relatively empty.
It was, except for one stunning woman in a bikini and sunglasses, a laptop open on her belly. His heart tripped over its own feet.
Lauren.
Wordlessly, Mike kicked off his shoes and sat down on the deck chair. Then he shucked off his shirt and lay back, closing his eyes. “Nice office you got here,” he said.
“I know, right?” Her eyes remained focused on the screen. “Some business trips are easier than others. Sometimes you get a deck chair, and sometimes you’re in the Middle East, wearing a potato sack and covering your hair.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. In Riyadh our hotel had a women’s only floor, which was pretty trippy.”
“Where else have you been with Nate?” He stretched out as the sun began to warm his chest, and he hoped she’d keep talking. Sunshine and Lauren’s voice—two things he didn’t have enough of.
“Shanghai. Tokyo. Singapore. Taiwan. Turns out conference rooms look the same everywhere.”