A Perfect Trade. Anna Sugden

      She should be dancing through the house, yet she couldn’t shake off the gloom that shrouded her, extending its cold, snakelike tendrils deep inside.

      Perhaps it was shock. Jenny had been looking over her shoulder for so long, waiting for her uncle to take revenge for leaving and taking Lizzie with her. Even when Lizzie had grown too old to be of interest to Douglas, he’d made sure Jenny knew that he could make their lives miserable if she took one wrong step.

      She lit the fire in the living room, made a mug of hot chocolate and curled up in her rocking chair, her parents’ wedding-ring quilt wrapped around her shoulders. She drew comfort from the handmade quilt, as if her parents were hugging her.

      The heirloom was the only thing of her parents that Douglas had let her take when she’d left. Jenny hadn’t cared; Lizzie’s safety had been worth more than everything she’d had to leave behind. And a small price to pay for ensuring her uncle would leave them alone.

      Not that she’d trusted him to keep his word. But her only leverage against him would have been to tell the truth about what he’d done to her. But that would have destroyed her and, worse, Lizzie would have been wrenched from her care.

      Slowly, warmth seeped into her body, relieving the tension that had tightened her muscles. A tiny spark of joy lit deep inside and she allowed it to glow.

      The doorbell rang, jolting her out of her reverie. Jenny debated not answering, but her visitor was impatient and leaned on the bell again. Slowly, she rose and went to the door. Checking through the peephole, she was relieved to see her boss’s craggy face.

      Harry didn’t say anything when she opened the door, simply enfolded her in his arms and pressed her to his barrel chest. The familiar smell of Old Spice and the cigars he wasn’t supposed to smoke clung to his tweed jacket.

      The tears she’d held back spilled over.

      “No need for waterworks,” his gravelly voice rumbled beneath her ear as he patted her back awkwardly.

      Jenny stepped away and led him to the living room. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

      His jaw set. “They’re tears of happiness. We’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but I’ve never been happier to hear of someone’s passing.”

      Harry had insisted she tell him her story the first time they met, when he’d rescued her from a shoplifting charge at the local grocery store, not long after she and Lizzie had left their uncle’s house. Surprised a teenager would steal milk and bread, instead of candy or alcohol, he’d paid for her haul and offered to buy her lunch.

      She hadn’t trusted Harry’s motives, but with no money and desperate to feed Lizzie, she’d grudgingly accepted his help. It hadn’t taken long for her benefactor—a billionaire with fingers in multiple media pies—to coax the story out of her.

      Harry had been shocked. Impressed that she was trying to take care of her sister, he’d promised to help her keep Lizzie. Despite her lack of qualifications, he’d given her a job and helped her find a place to live. He’d also encouraged her to get her GED and to save her money so she could buy this house.

      Harry had threatened to expose her uncle, but Jenny, fearful of the fallout that would rebound on her, had begged him not to. He’d agreed reluctantly, but had sworn that if Douglas ever came after her, he would deal with the man himself.

      “You didn’t need to come.” Jenny poured him a glass of his favorite malt whiskey. “I’m all right.”

      “I can see that.” Harry eased his stocky frame into an armchair by the fire.

      “No, really. The news was unexpected. The emotions overwhelmed me, but I’m fine.”

      Harry nodded. “Well, now the old bastard’s gone, it’s time to take a good look at your life and decide what you want to do with it.”

      “What’s wrong with my life? Thanks to you, I have a great job, a lovely house and a social life most women would envy.”

      He arched a gray eyebrow. “You must want more than that. What about marriage, a family? You’re not getting any younger, missy.”

      Jenny had abandoned her dream of a husband and children long ago. She carried too much baggage to trust any man. She’d learned the hard way the only person she could rely on was herself. Safety and security were far more important than romance.

      “Lizzie only has a couple of years left at college,” she hedged. “Plenty of time to figure things out when she’s done.”

      “Bull crap.” He puffed out a breath. “Don’t wait for the right moment to sort yourself out. Otherwise, one day, you’ll turn around and it’ll be too late.”

      At his somber tone, she studied his face anxiously. “Is everything all right? You’re not sick, are you?”

      “Fit as a horse.” He waved away her concerns. “Only the creaky joints you’d expect in a man my age.”

      Harry looked good for his seventy years. His hair wasn’t fully gray yet and his only wrinkles were the laugh lines around his eyes and bracketing his mouth.

      “Then why the heavy sigh?”

      “Felicia and Irving want their allowances increased. I should’ve cut the pair of them loose years ago.” He shook his head. “Alice will be rolling in her grave at the mess I’ve made of bringing them up.”

      Though Harry was overindulgent with his children, Jenny felt their self-centered greediness was a character flaw that said more about them, than the man who’d raised them single-handedly after his wife’s early death.

      “Why couldn’t my kids have been more like you and Lizzie? Thank God I have you both in my life, or I’d be a miserable old goat.”

      She laughed. “I’m not touching that comment!”

      Harry chuckled, then sobered. “Enough dillydallying around the subject, missy. I want to know what Jenny Martin wants from her life.”

      What did she want?

      With her thirtieth birthday approaching, she’d been asking herself the same question. She’d been surprised to realize that over the past year she’d slept with very few men; none in the past nine months. The players coming into the league seemed too young and she couldn’t drum up any interest for those already in the show.

      The lack of sex didn’t bother her; she’d never been that excited by it. Being a puck bunny had given her a sense of power and control—in a safe environment, among a fraternity she’d trusted—at a time when she’d had none. She didn’t need that anymore. Perhaps it was time to pass her figurative crown to someone younger.

      But what would she do instead? There would be a void in her life, especially now Lizzie had pretty much left home. Then there was the tick of her biological clock.

      She wasn’t going there. “I don’t know what I want.”

      “Come on. There must be something.”

      She should be annoyed by his persistence, forcing her to say aloud what she secretly nurtured in her heart, but she knew it was because he cared.

      “Sure, I want love and a family. But marriage isn’t in the cards for me, so there’s no point thinking about it.”

      “Why not?” He blew a raspberry at Jenny’s arched eyebrow. “The right guy won’t give a damn about your past.”

      Harry had never judged her for being a puck bunny. Everyone had to take their own path, he’d said. As long as she wasn’t hurting anyone, especially herself, it was up to her what she did.

      Not everyone had the same attitude. Naturally, with that thought, a certain green-eyed Ice Cat skated into her mind. Tru certainly wasn’t the right guy.

      “Wherever this man is, I haven’t found him,” Jenny said lightly.