walk you to your car.”
“I took a taxi.”
“Then I’ll take you home.”
“Okay, but I won’t invite you to come inside,” she said. There were some women who might consider her promiscuous, but she did have her standards. Hugh Miner was handsome and successful, and he was behaving like a perfect gentleman. He just wasn’t her type.
“That’s up to you.”
“I mean it. You can’t come in.”
“I believe you. If it makes you feel better, I promise I won’t even get off the bike.”
“Bike?”
“Yeah, I rode my Harley. You’ll love it.” He put one arm around her shoulders and they moved toward the entrance to the bar. “First I need to find Dmitri and Stuart and tell them I’m leaving.”
“I can’t ride on your motorcycle with you.”
They stopped by the entrance and allowed a group of people to exit. “Sure you can. I won’t let you get hurt.”
“I’m not worried about that.” She looked up into his face, illuminated by an orange Miller light shining above the door. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
He froze for a few seconds, then smiled. “Well, there you go. We have something in common. Neither am I.”
John followed Caroline Foster-Duffy through the entry hall of Virgil’s Bainbridge estate. Her blond hair was streaked with gray and fine lines had settled in the corners of her eyes. She was one of those women fortunate enough to mature with wisdom and grace. She had the wisdom not to fight her age with brassy hair dye or cosmetic surgery, and the grace to look beautiful despite her sixty-five years.
“He’s been expecting you,” she said as they passed the formal dining room. She paused at a set of double mahogany doors and looked up at John with concern shining in her pale blue eyes. “I’m going to have to ask you to keep your visit short. I know Virgil called you to meet with him tonight, but he’s been working harder than usual the past couple of days. He’s tired, but he won’t rest. I know something is wrong, but he won’t share it with me. Do you know what has happened to upset him? Is it business?”
“I don’t know,” John answered. He was into the second year of his three-year contract and didn’t have to worry about negotiations for another year, so he doubted Virgil had called him to discuss his contract. And besides, he didn’t handle negotiations personally, he paid a sports management corporation to take care of his professional interests. “I assumed he wanted to talk about his draft choices,” he said, although he did think Virgil’s request to talk to him in person was peculiar, especially at nine on a Friday night.
A frown wrinkled Caroline’s brow before she turned and opened the door behind her. “John’s here,” she announced as she walked into Virgil’s office. John followed her into a room filled with cherry wood and leather, sculptures of Japanese fishermen and Currier & Ives lithographs. The different textures blended and created an impression of wealth and taste. “But I’m only going to let him stay for half an hour,” she continued. “Then I’m going to make him leave so that you can get your rest.”
Virgil looked up from several papers scattered across the executive desk in front of him. “Shut the door on your way out,” was his response to his wife.
Her lips flattened into a thin line, but she said nothing and backed out of the room.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Virgil motioned to a chair on the opposite side of his desk.
John looked into the older man’s face, and he knew why he’d been summoned. Bitterness and fatigue pulled at the little pouches beneath Virgil’s eyes. He looked every bit of his seventy-five years. John sat in a leather wing chair and waited.
“The other day you seemed genuinely surprised to see Georgeanne Howard on television.”
“I was.”
“You didn’t know she had her own program here in Seattle?”
“No.”
“How can that be, John? The two of you are quite close.”
“Obviously we’re not that close,” John answered, wondering exactly how much Virgil knew.
Virgil picked up a sheet of paper and handed it across the desk. “This says you are a liar.”
John took the document, and his gaze quickly scanned the copy of Lexie’s birth certificate. He was listed as Lexie’s father, which normally would have pleased him, but he didn’t appreciate anyone digging into his personal life. He tossed the paper back onto the desk and met Virgil’s stare. “Where did you get that?”
Virgil waved off John’s question with his hand. “Is it true?”
“Yes, it is. Where did you get it?”
Virgil shrugged. “I’ve had someone doing a little checking on Georgeanne, and imagine my surprise when I saw your name.” He held up several court documents along with John’s legal acknowledgment of paternity. Virgil didn’t hand them over, but he didn’t need to. John had his own copies at home. “Apparently you fathered a child with Georgeanne.”
“You know I did, so why not cut the bullshit and get to the point.”
Virgil set the papers back down. “That’s one thing I’ve always liked about you, John. You don’t pussyfoot around anything.” His gaze never wavered as he asked, “Did you have sex with my fiancйe before or after she left me standing in my own backyard looking like a ridiculous old fool?”
Even though John didn’t like anyone digging into his past, or appreciate the personal question, he did think it was fair. He respected Virgil enough to believe he deserved an answer. “I met Georgeanne for the first time after she left the wedding. I’d never seen her before she came running out of your house and asked me for a ride. She wasn’t wearing a wedding dress, and I didn’t know who she was.”
Virgil sat back in his chair. “But at some point you did know.”
“Yes.”
“When you found out who she was, you slept with her anyway.”
John frowned. “Obviously.” The way he saw things, he’d done Virgil a big favor by taking Georgeanne away from that wedding. She could get downright mean, and John didn’t think the older man could take being told he wasn’t memorable in bed. Not like John.
Virgil was better off without her. She could make a man hot and half-hard, then tell him that he was embarrassing himself. Then with that voice of hers dripping honey and daggers, remind of his second marriage to a stripper. She was vicious, no doubt about it.
“How long were you lovers?”
“Not long.” He knew Virgil, and the old man hadn’t called him across the sound just to hear some juicy details. “Get to the point.”
“You’ve played some damn good hockey for me, and I’ve never cared where you put your dick. But when you fucked Georgeanne, you fucked me over.”
John stood and seriously considered jumping across the desk and pounding the crap out of Virgil. If Virgil hadn’t been so much older, he might have. Georgeanne was the most seductive and hottest woman he’d ever been with, but she wasn’t just a fuck. She was more than that to him, and she didn’t deserve to be talked about as if she were trash. With an effort, he held on to his anger. “You still haven’t gotten to the point.”
“You can have your career with the Chinooks, or you can have Georgeanne. You can’t have both.”
John liked being threatened less than he liked people digging into his personal business. “Are you threatening me with a trade?”
Virgil was deadly serious when he said, “Only if you force me to.”
John considered telling Virgil to shove it up his wrinkled old ass. Five months ago he might have. Even though John loved playing for the Chinooks and couldn’t see himself stepping into the captaincy for another organization, he didn’t respond well to threats. But he had too much to lose now. He’d just discovered that he had a child, and he’d just been granted joint custody. “We have a daughter together, so maybe you should tell me what you mean by ‘have.’”
“See your kid all you want,” Virgil began. “But don’t touch her mother. Don’t date her. Don’t marry her, or you and I are going to have trouble.”
