Skating on Thin Ice: Seattle Sockeyes (Game On in Seattle Book 1) by Jami Davenport Read Free Book Online Page A

perhaps the most perplexing.
    Lauren.
    She had a brilliant hockey mind, and like him she exuded this passion for the game that couldn’t be forced. It just was.
    His horny little brain slipped around a corner into a dark alley he usually avoided and wondered if that passion ran over into the bedroom. The thought of her naked and sweaty, those expressive brown eyes half-lidded and sultry, beckoning him to take a walk on the wild side with her. Ah, hell. He rubbed his hands over his face. His dick was all-in, but then no surprise there. He’d always had a healthy sex drive.
    She’d been ready to rip him a new one when he’d gone barreling into the locker room. He almost laughed. He loved her fire and didn’t hold her anger against her. In fact, he appreciated that she held the team above pleasing him and the new ownership, not knowing, of course, that he was the new ownership.
    Maybe his tactics had been a little high-handed, and when he took actual possession of the team, he’d never pull that crap on a coaching staff he’d hired. He’d trust them completely to carry out his mandate of building an NHL dynasty, because he’d settle for nothing less, and he’d force himself to have the patience to wait for it.
    Ethan had his eyes on a new coach, assuming he didn’t keep the existing coach, and he doubted he would. Ferrar was old school, a lot like Lauren’s father. Ethan was not. That’d be a problem, possibly an insurmountable one. Lauren, on the other hand, got it. She understood the value of the new types of statistics to measure the immeasurable. She also shared many similar opinions on the players, not that he’d been able to hear much in the way of criticism from her, but once he earned her trust, he suspected the floodgates would open.
    Deserving her trust would be the hard part, especially when he was a lying bastard about his intentions and his identity, but Ethan often got what he wanted by sheer force of will. He’d do it this time, too. Sure, she’d be pissed as hell when she found out who and what he was, but she’d come around to his way of thinking when she realized how sincere he was about building this team.
    Ethan’s phone rang, and he walked back inside to pick it up. It was Brad. “What the fuck are you doing up?”
    “Hell, the night’s still young. I’m on Pacific time, remember? I haven’t even gone to bed yet.”
    Oh, yeah, he remembered. Brad played the part of a perpetual frat guy, always looking for the next party, even at thirty-two years old. Yet the gregarious Brad was the perfect front man for the hockey ownership. Everyone loved Brad, and he won a lot more points than straight-forward, driven Ethan ever would.
    “So we’ve got company, buddy,” Brad said.
    “What kind of company?” Sometimes Brad didn’t make a lick of sense.
    “Competition.”
    Ethan was getting exasperated with Brad’s short answers, designed to draw out the drama. “What competition?”
    “For the team.”
    “The team is ours.”
    “They don’t know that, and when they find out they didn’t get a chance to make an offer, all hell will bust lose.”
    “And I care about this why?”
    Brad hesitated, most likely for emphasis and to tax Ethan’s patience, which he loved to do. “A couple reasons—this other group comprises hockey guys who’d keep the team in Florida, and the figurehead of this group is Lon Schneider.”
    “Lauren’s father.” Ethan absorbed this bit of information; small as it might seem, it was a potential blockbuster.
    “He’s a legend, and when it’s announced his group has been passed over, we’ll be even bigger villains,” Brad said.
    “Shit.” Ethan knew this move would be tough, but disrespecting a group of heavy-hitters like that would be a potential powder keg across the league. Not that anyone in Seattle would give a rat’s ass, but the rest of the league sure as hell would. He had so wanted to play nice with the other teams, come across as a white