A Perfect Distraction. Anna Sugden

Maggie Goodman muttered into her phone.

      As if she wasn’t nervous enough. She ducked behind the trees, out of sight of the snap-happy vultures with their powerful cameras and long-range lenses. Thankfully, they hadn’t spotted her; their attention remained focused hungrily on the front entrance of Trump Place.

      “Relax, sis,” Tracy soothed. “They’ll be watching for Manhattan’s glitterati. They won’t care about the ex-wife of a jack-the-lad footballer. Soccer isn’t as popular in the States as it is back home in England.”

      “Everyone here seems to know David Beckham and Posh Spice.”

      “Sure, but how many have heard of Wayne Rooney and Colleen, let alone know what they look like? They won’t know Lee Goodman.” Her voice softened. “Or you.”

      Anonymity was one of the reasons Maggie had leaped at Tracy’s offer to come to the United States. She’d been tired of having the details of her messy divorce splashed across the tabloids and of being asked questions by the gossip media every time her ex was seen with a new woman. He could date who he pleased as long as he left Maggie and her seven-year-old daughter, Emily, alone. They’d suffered enough.

      “They won’t recognize you,” Tracy added. “You look completely different now.”

      Maggie smoothed her dark brown hair, recently restored to her natural color from bleached blond, then checked the café au lait linen dress and matching jacket she’d worn for this evening’s meeting. Understated, professional and elegant, it was as far from tarty footballer’s wife as she could get. Not what she was used to wearing—she’d thrown away every bling-covered, barely there outfit as soon as her divorce had been finalized—but it felt normal.

      Lee would hate it. Despite the heat, a shiver went through her as she recalled the repercussions of his disapproval. She shook her head to clear the brutal images. She didn’t have to worry about what her ex thought anymore. She didn’t have to worry what any man thought. Maggie would never give anyone the chance to control her life that way again.

      “You’re right.” She wished the nervous fluttering in her stomach would settle. “I just don’t want to let you down. I know how important this meeting is for Making Your Move. What if I mess it up?”

      Bad enough that Tracy was flat on her back in a hospital bed after emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix and that her assistant had run off with a minor-league baseball player, one of the relocation business’s clients. Maggie would never forgive herself if she ruined her sister’s chance of winning the contract with the New Jersey Ice Cats, the local professional hockey team.

      “I doubt you could make things worse. What could go wrong?”

      “Jake Badoletti’s a professional sportsman with a bad-boy reputation. We both know how temperamental they can be.” Her gut twisted at the thought of the one she’d divorced nearly a year ago. She touched a finger to the fading scar on her cheek.

      “Jake at his worst is a million times better than your snake of an ex. When I dealt with Bad Boy, he was charming—not what I’d expected given the media stories about him.”

      Maggie had read the client file about the popular hockey player. Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti was a top defenseman who played as hard off the ice as on it. Clippings from the society pages and celebrity magazines, as well as excerpts from internet sites like TMZ, had shown him dating a staggering array of beautiful women and attending countless parties and celebrity events.

      Admittedly, there had been a shift in the stories after the horrific car accident that had taken the life of his good friend. Jake had been injured badly enough that there were fears he’d never skate again, let alone play professionally. Once he’d recovered, the media coverage had focused on his charity work and fan-appreciation events.

      Had he really changed, or was he as good at playing the PR game as he was hockey? In her experience, leopards didn’t change their spots.

      Either way, it made no difference; she had a job to do. “I’d better go or I’ll be late.”

      “I really appreciate you doing this for me, sis.”

      “Let’s see if you still feel like that after I’ve spoken with Jake.”

      “You’ll be fine. It’s a straightforward meeting.”

      “Get him to sign the paperwork that says everything went okay with his move from Chicago.” Maggie tapped her briefcase. “And check if he needs anything else.”

      “See, piece of cake. You’ll be in and out of there in no time. Then I promise you can focus on helping me with the admin side of the business instead of taking client meetings.”

      “Sounds good.” Maggie kept her voice light. “By the time I finish here and collect Emily from your neighbor’s house, we’ll have missed visiting hours. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

      “I’m glad Emily hit it off with Janice’s daughter, Amy. It’ll do both of you single mothers a favor.” Tracy swore and lowered her voice. “Nurse Attila is outside my room. She’ll give me hell if she catches me on my cell. She’s already confiscated my laptop.”

      “That’s because you’re supposed to be resting, not working.”

      “Working helps me feel better.” Tracy’s sharp intake of breath said moving was still painful.

      “So would following the doctor’s orders.”

      “You always were the bossy big sister. Oops, got to go. See you tomorrow.”

      Maggie shook her head indulgently as she snapped her phone shut. Not much kept her sister down. She’d do well to take a leaf out of Tracy’s book.

      Helping Tracy was a small way to thank her for giving Maggie the chance to provide a safe, secure life for Emily, far away from Lee. It was also an opportunity to rebuild the self-confidence and independence her ex had stolen from her. This meeting was an important first step. Admittedly, she hadn’t done anything yet, but from the smallest acorns...

      “Okay. I can do this.” She squared her shoulders, then strode purposefully toward the brass-and-glass entrance.

      Tracy was right. The paparazzi paid no attention to Maggie, giving her only a brief, dismissive glance as she walked past them and through the doors into the lobby.

      Relieved at having made it past the first hurdle unscathed, she stepped into a waiting elevator and jabbed the button for the fortieth floor. She checked her appearance in the mirrored wall and grimaced. The ferry ride from Weehawken, along with the summer heat and humidity, had reddened her cheeks and frizzed her hair. Grateful for the air-conditioning, she tried to fix the damage, then turned her mind to the upcoming meeting.

      Jake Badoletti was New Jersey’s prodigal son. Recently transferred from Chicago, the Ice Cats management and fans believed he’d bring the ultimate hockey prize, the Stanley Cup, back to his home state. Keen to ensure their star player’s transition went smoothly, the Ice Cats had given Tracy carte blanche in managing Jake’s relocation. They’d promised to put her on retainer for all their player moves if she delivered for Bad Boy.

      With Jake settled into his new place, all Tracy needed was for him to sign off the move. She hadn’t wanted to wait until she was out of hospital and had begged a favor.

      Maggie swallowed hard. She’d never done anything like this before; she’d been a secretary, then a sports star’s wife, not a businesswoman. Talk about a baptism of fire.

      Taking in a deep breath, she tried to calm her jittery pulse. It was only one meeting, and Tracy was depending on her to give it her best shot. I won’t let her down.

      The soft digital voice announcing the fortieth floor made her heart thump heavily.

      “Showtime.” Stiffening her spine, she strode out of the lift.

      Her steps faltered. Noise spilled out of the open apartment doors. Voices and laughter, underscored with