Excerpts of Work

Tough Girl, Pretty Woman
(Book 2 in the New Jersey Ice Cats series)

“Jack. Rocks. And keep them coming.”

Desire slid through Tru’s veins like flames licking at dry wood. Anger, frustration and guilt soon mingled with the desire, as they had since he was sixteen.

What the hell was Jenny doing here?

Just like old times, his mind whispered.

Except Jenny wouldn’t be rushing towards him, her blue eyes bright with anticipation. She wouldn’t be sliding into the booth, into his arms, her lips raised for his kiss. There would be no entwined fingers as they shared a shake and a bite to eat.

The English Café had been their place during high school; they’d hung out here regularly after hockey practice, and when friendship had turned to something more. It had been their little haven -- away from people who knew them. Especially Jenny’s step-father.

He’d only realised how much of a sanctuary this had been for Jenny, when he’d discovered the truth about that bastard.

Tru shifted into the shadows of the high-sided booth as Jenny took her a seat in a booth across the room.

“Why don’t I get some food to go with that drink?” The gum-snapping waitress’ gentle question belied her hard, brassy look.

He couldn’t make out Jenny’s response.

When the older woman moved away, he got his first good look at Jenny’s face.

What the hell had happened since the other night? The glow had definitely gone. Her pale skin was almost translucent. There were dark smudges under her eyes. Her normally silky, shoulder-length blonde hair was dull.

“Get that down you.” The waitress placed a large plate, laden with cottage pie and peas in front of Jenny. “It’ll put some meat on your bones.”

“I’ll do my best.” Her smile was forced. Brittle.

As soon as she was alone, the smile faded and Jenny’s shoulders slumped.

Tru was half out of his seat before he could stop himself.

What are you thinking? Slowly, he sat down again.

Think you can help? His inner voice laughed; a mocking, pitying sound. Haven’t you ‘helped’ her enough?

But, he’d meant well. All he’d wanted to do was save the girl he loved.

Instead, he’d screwed up. Badly. He’d broken his promise to her and ended up making things worse. Dangerously worse.

How could he have known that her step-father, the pastor the whole neighbourhood had admired and trusted, was abusing her?

He turned back to his dinner, but his gaze kept straying across the room. Half of him willed her to look up, to see him. The other half was scared that she might.

Eat up and get out of here. The normally delicious cottage pie tasted like dust.

He’d barely eaten a mouthful when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Jenny’s fork clattered to the table. She pushed her plate away and cradled her head in her hands.

He didn’t hesitate this time. Before he could question his actions, he was standing by her side. Which was crazy because he hadn’t the first clue what to say.

“You’re a long way from home.” Damn it -- were those gruffly spoken words the best he could do?

Jenny’s back stiffened, but she didn’t look up.

Her lack of reaction worried him. Where was her usual snappy come-back? Whatever was wrong, was bad.

He had to do something. Spark a response.

“Didn’t think this was your neighbourhood any more, Jenny.”

She lifted her head, glaring at him. “Excuse me?”

“Come on -- look around. No hockey players.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. At least, no good hockey players.”

Ouch. Still, fire had finally flashed in her blue eyes.

He slid into the booth and sat opposite her.

“Go away Truman, I’m eating.”

“Uh huh. And what was that you were doing when I came over? Praying?” He winced inwardly. Dumb. Really dumb.

He’d wanted a reaction, not to hurt her.

“Hardly. I don’t believe in religion. Or God.”

No -- she wouldn’t. Not after what she’d suffered.

“My point exactly.” He picked up her fork and helped himself to her dinner. “They still have the best cottage pie here.”

“Hey, that’s mine. Get your own.”

“You never were good at sharing.” He offered her a forkful.

When she continued to glare, he shrugged and ate it himself.

Jenny stood, marched over to the waitress station and grabbed herself some fresh cutlery. When she returned, she deliberately poured ketchup all over the pie.

She’d obviously remembered he didn’t like ketchup.

He shook his head, sadly. “Now, that’s just mean.”

Rising, he went to collect his own dinner and returned.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Not taking the hint, are you? Do you always force women to accept your company?”

“I never have to force anything. They just flock to me.”

“Like lemmings to a cliff?”

He grinned. “Not bad.”

“I’m just warming up.” She ate some of her pie. “You’re right. I’d forgotten how delicious the food was here.”

“Not been here in a while, then?”

She shook her head. “Not for a few years.”

What had brought her back tonight? “I’m surprised to see you here, Jenny. The Conference Finals are about to start. Don’t you have to be somewhere? Pittsburgh?”

“I’ve retired.”

“What?” He couldn’t have heard her right.

“It’s a younger girl’s game. I’ve handed over the puck bunny crown to Candi-with-an-I.”

“Your trophy collection is complete?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

What was wrong with him? So she didn’t have his puck in her collection. So she had no intention of sleeping with him. So what? He didn’t compete with other hockey players for women, or take up with their left-overs.

The fire in her blue eyes was replaced with ice. “My display is short a few pucks. But then I’ve never slept with married men. Or jerks.”

Time to change the subject. He’d dug himself a deep enough hole. “What brings you here tonight?” he asked gently.

Jenny blanched. Her vulnerable, almost fragile look had him worried enough to press on. “Why do you need a bolt-hole?”

She said nothing, pushing her food around on her plate.

“Come on Jenny. It’s obvious there’s something wrong. You look dreadful.”

“This from a man with stitches in his cheek and a black eye that’s turning a lovely shade of yellow.”

“You don’t need me to tell you how beautiful you are; there are enough guys who do that. You need the truth.”

She flinched. “I told you, I’ve retired.”

“Well, retirement obviously doesn’t agree with you.”

Jenny shrugged. A small, heart-breakingly defiant gesture he’d seen before. A long time ago. That night.

Before he’d convinced her she could trust him.

Before he’d destroyed that trust.

“It’s nothing,” she said flatly.

Irritation bubbled within at her dismissal. She’d never forgive him. Never understand. No matter how many times he explained. Or tried to make it up to her.

He should have known better than to come over here. Known better than to expect anything but pain and rejection when it came to Jenny Martin.

He stood. “I give up. Enjoy your dinner.”

He turned to walk away, then stopped. Looking over his shoulder he said, “Whatever’s wrong, it’s eating away at you. Even this dumb ice-jock can see that. Talk to someone. Talk to Maggie. To Jake.”

Tears filled her eyes and spilled over, down her cheeks.

Fear twisted his gut.

Jenny never cried.

*        *        *

Return to main excerpt page

Back to the top