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Lynn sat in a sea of suits—pants, pinstripe, and skirts—and fumed. Armstrong stood at a podium on a low dais at the front of the hotel banquet room and did his spiel for the second time that day. It wasn’t the same speech he’d given the boys in the locker room, but it was familiar enough that it didn’t hold her attention.
To be fair, she wasn’t sure anything could at the moment. Hurt and disappointment warred inside her.
And not just because Benjamin had let her down. Because she had let herself forget what they had was only temporary. He hadn’t hidden how important his career was to him, but she’d ignored all the signs that, when push came to shove, he would choose it over her and Oscar.
Rolling laughter rippled through the audience. Armstrong was a pro, telling the same stories she’d heard this morning from a new angle, one that would resonate with the business managers and owners who had paid to attend this Rotary luncheon.
She took a bite of roast beef and stabbed a steamed asparagus spear but left the Yorkshire pudding alone. Why couldn’t they serve salads at these events? It was only midday. If she ate the whole heavy meal she’d be asleep by two.
Her phone vibrated, the screen lighting up. Smiling apologetically at the heavy-jowled businessman sitting on her right, she lowered it to her lap and read the text from Makayla.
Sorry, Lynn. I’ve got basketball tonight. Do you want me to ask around at school?
She hadn’t expected Oscar’s favourite babysitter would magically be available, but with Stephanie out of town she had few options. She’d rather not leave Oscar with a complete stranger if she could help it.
She tapped back. Let me try someone else first. I’ll get back to you.
Applause broke out and she rose along with everyone else to join the standing ovation for Armstrong. She was pleased the crowd was so appreciative, but did he really deserve such an accolade? It wasn’t like he’d won the Nobel Peace Prize or cured cancer.
Damn Benjamin for making her so cranky.
Armstrong took the seat on her left and nodded complacently as the others at the table added their personal thanks. She lifted a hand to touch his arm and then drew it back. While she didn’t mind his casual flirting, she didn’t want to give the wrong impression, either. The motion did its job by catching his attention. He lifted an eyebrow.
“I have to make a quick call.” She waggled her phone. “I’ll be right back.”
“And I’ll be right here. Waiting for you.” The innuendo was light yet unmistakable. She would have to tread a fine line between encouraging him and pissing him off.
Ah, the perils of the modern career woman.
Winding her way through the tables she nodded and waved at several acquaintances without stopping to chat. In the wide hall outside the banquet room she found a quiet corner and searched her contact list for Helen Mansfield.
The matriarch of the Silverberry Book Club answered after two rings. “Lynn! How are you? We missed you at the last meeting.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been a bad Silverberry this year.” What with working so many evenings, not wanting to leave Oscar when she did have a free night, and spending time with Benjamin, she had only attended one club meeting since December. Which was partly why her as-yet-unvoiced request made her feel like she was taking advantage of Helen.
“There’s no such thing. You know what I say, once a Silverberry, always a Silverberry. Are you coming Tuesday? We’re painting Ukrainian Easter eggs.”
“That sounds great.” Not the painting part—Lynn was all thumbs when it came to detailed art—but the getting together with her friends part. As much as she cared for Benjamin—even her current disenchantment wouldn’t allow her to deny that—he owed her nothing. Today had been a rude wake-up call, a painful reminder of the temporary nature of their relationship. She needed to spend more time with those who truly had her back.
The door behind her opened and a pair of suited men strode out. The luncheon was breaking up. “I have a favour to ask. I need a sitter for Oscar. Tonight. I know it’s last minute, but I have a business dinner I can’t miss and my arrangement fell through.”
“You know I’d love to take him. But what about Benjamin?” Helen had met him once more since the Christmas party, when he’d picked Lynn up at the January book club meeting—learning how to throw pottery with a local guild—after she’d had one too many of Helen’s Red Shoe Martinis.
“He was my arrangement. He bailed on me.”
“I’m sure he had a good reason.”
“All he said was he had to meet some people and it was important.” A wriggle of worry wormed its way past the sting of his rejection. He’d never been secretive before. What was going on?
This time when the doors swung wide they stayed open as a stream of well-dressed men and women filed out. She had to get back to Armstrong. “Can you come to my house or should I bring him to you? I need to be free by six forty-five.”
“Nathan and I will come there. It is okay if he comes, too, right?”
“Of course. You’re not some randy teenagers I have to worry about making out on my couch.”
Helen’s raunchy laugh rang out. “We may not be teenagers but we haven’t forgotten what making out is. But don’t worry. We’ll behave. See you later.”
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THE POTENTIAL PURCHASERS of the Canyon Cats were pleasant, personable men. One owned the largest car dealership in Woodbury, the other an agricultural equipment franchise that had locations across Minnesota. The others in the consortium were not quite as rich but well off enough to risk investing in a junior hockey team.
Benjamin learned all this during the dinner Brewster had insisted he attend. He nodded and smiled and made appropriately agreeable noises while wondering what the hell had been so important he’d had to break his commitment to Lynn. Nothing that had been discussed couldn’t have waited a few hours. While he understood the power of networking, it hadn’t been worth letting her down.
By the time Brewster drove the four of them back to the hotel, he was exhausted from making nice and wanted nothing more than the quiet sanctuary of his own apartment. But when one of the men suggested a nightcap in the hotel bar, Brewster—who had picked Benjamin up and was his planned ride home—thought it was a fabulous idea. Benjamin had no choice but to follow them into the lobby.
As the automatic doors wheezed wide, Lynn and Armstrong stepped out of the romantically lit restaurant tucked behind the reception desk. Benjamin’s step faltered and he hurried to rejoin the other men, who paused in the middle of the large space. Brewster was talking, though his words were unintelligible through the buzz of awareness humming in his ears.
Lynn wore a silvery blue dress that hugged her hips and dipped between her breasts. High heeled shoes emphasized the curve of her calves, her tan coat was draped over her arm, and her rich blonde hair, piled on top of her head, revealed the soft skin of her nape. His fingers itched to touch her there, to trail his tongue behind her ear where dangling earrings sparkled and flashed.
His hands curled into fists when Armstrong leaned in, his lips almost brushing her cheek. Whatever he said made her laugh, her chin lifting. The warm, sensual sound rolled across the lobby and set fire to something raw and primitive inside him.
Lynn was his. The sight of her with another man crystallized his scattered thoughts. His career was in flux and his life a mess, but in that instant it didn’t matter. It was time to fight for what he wanted.
And he wanted Lynn.
“Excuse me.” He ignored Brewster’s raised eyebrow at his interruption. “There’s someone I need to talk to. It was great meeting you.” He offered his hand to the two out-of-towners then to Brewster. “Thanks for the meal. I’ll find my own way home.”
He’d never been one for confrontation, but as he stalked across the shiny tile floor he realized he was looking forward to this one. If he and Lynn broke up, now or sometime in the future, it would be because of something he had done. Not something he had avoided.
“Hello, Lynn. Armstrong.”
She swung around, earrings swaying, eyes widening. “Benjamin. What are you doing here?”
Ignoring her, he stared at Armstrong. “Enjoying your time in Prince George?” You might have had dinner with her, but she’s not available for anything else.
“I am, yes.” His gaze slipped from Benjamin to Lynn and back again, his lips pressed tight at the corners, understanding dawning.
That’s right. Get the message. “It’s a great hockey city.”
A wry grin lightened Armstrong expression and he shrugged as if to say can’t blame me for trying. “Well, I should hit the sack. We have another busy day tomorrow.” In a gesture that made the hackles on Benjamin’s neck rise, a move that had to be for that reason only, he drew Lynn’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Lynn.”
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ARMSTRONG STRODE AWAY and Lynn stared after him, the back of her hand damp from his kiss.
“What did I miss?” She narrowed her eyes at Benjamin. “And whatever it was, what right did you have to do it?”
He lifted her hand and rubbed the sleeve of his coat on her knuckles as if eradicating Armstrong’s caress. She’d felt nothing at that charming yet ironic gesture, but her belly fluttered at the hot look in Benjamin’s eyes, the firm clasp of his hand.
“Can we talk?” He tugged her into a sheltered alcove, shielded from the main lobby area by two huge ferns in tall urns.
She jerked her hand free and planted her fists on her hips. “Oh, now you want to talk.”
“I’m going to tell you something I’m not supposed to.” He glanced over his shoulder and she leaned sideways to follow his line of sight. “See those two men with Brewster?”
She caught a glimpse just before they vanished into the bar on the opposite side of the lobby from the restaurant. “Barely.”
“They’re the new owners of the Canyon Cats. Or will be soon.”
She gaped, and then shut her teeth with a click that rattled her brain. “They’re what?”
“It’s going to be announced at a media conference at the end of the regular season. But you have to keep it under wraps until then.”
“Of course.” Questions and comments fought for attention, her mind whirling. “So that’s why Brewster was so agreeable all of a sudden. He was selling the team.”
“Yes.”
“This is great news.” Excitement bubbled. “Brewster obviously wanted out. New owners will bring new blood to the team, breathe life into it. I can’t wait for Cynthie to find out.”
“You don’t understand.” Benjamin’s tone was grim. “The new owners are from Minnesota. The team is moving, Lynn. And they want me to go with them.”