Second Chance With The Ceo. Anna DePalo

name, again?”

      “Sal Piazza,” Cole said and sidestepped Jordan’s first jab.

      “Right, Salami Pizza.”

      Cole grunted. “Vicki didn’t dump me. She—”

      “Got tired of your inability to commit.”

      Cole hit Jordan with his right. “She wasn’t looking for commitment. It was the perfect fling that way.”

      “Only because she’d heard of your reputation, so she knew she had to move on.”

      “As I said, everyone was happy.” They danced around the ring, oblivious to the gym noises around them.

      Even on a Wednesday evening, Jimmy’s Boxing Gym was humming with activity. The facility was kept cold but even the cool air couldn’t diminish the smell of sweat and sounds of exertion under the fluorescent lights.

      Jordan rolled his neck. “You know, Mom wants you to settle down.”

      Cole bared his teeth. “She’d also be happy if you quit risking thousands of dollars in orthodontia on the ice rink, but that’s not going to happen, either.”

      “She can pin her hopes on Rick, then,” Jordan said, referring to their middle brother, “if anyone knew where he was.”

      “On a movie set on the Italian Riviera, I’ve heard.”

      Their brother was a stuntman, the risk taker among them, which was saying a lot. Their long-suffering mother claimed she’d lived at the emergency room while raising three boys and a girl. It was true they’d all broken bones, at one time or another, but Camilla Serenghetti still wasn’t aware of her sons’ most hair-raising thrills.

      “It figures he’s on a paparazzi-riddled set,” Jordan grumbled. “No doubt there’s at least one hot actress in the picture.”

      “Mom has Mia to fall back on, even if she is in New York.” Their youngest sibling was off pursuing a career as a fashion designer, which meant Cole was the only one based in Welsdale full-time.

      “It sucks being the oldest, Cole,” Jordan said, as if reading his thoughts, “but you’ve got to admit you’re more suited to run Serenghetti Construction than any of the rest of us.”

      In the aftermath of Cole’s career-ending hockey injury, their father, Serg, had suffered a debilitating stroke. Cole had grasped the reins of Serenghetti Construction eight months ago and never let go.

      “It doesn’t suck,” Cole said. “It just needs to be done.”

      He took the opportunity to hit Jordan with a surprise right. Damn, it felt good to rid himself of some frustration in the ring. He loved his brother, so it stunk to be even a little envious of Jordan’s life. It wasn’t just that Jordan was still a star with the Razors, because Cole had had a good run with the team himself. His younger brother also enjoyed a freedom missing from Cole’s own life these days.

      Their father had always hoped one or more of his sons would carry on the family business. And in the casino of life, Cole had drawn the winning card.

      Cole had been familiar with the construction business ever since he’d spent summers working on sites as a teenager. He just hadn’t anticipated having his hockey dream cut short and needing to pull his family together at the same time. Business had been tight until recently, and with Serg nearly flat on his back, Cole had been doing some scrambling with the hand he’d been dealt.

      With any luck, one way or another, Cole could get on with his life again soon. Even if his future wasn’t on the ice, he had his own business and investment opportunities to pursue, particularly in the sports field. Coaching, for one thing, was beckoning...

      “So why don’t you tell me what’s got you in a bad mood?” Jordan asked, as if they weren’t in a ring trying to knock each other off their feet.

      Cole’s mind went to his more immediate problem—if she could even be called that instead of...oh yeah, a wrecking ball in heels. He built things, and she destroyed them—dreams being at the top of her list. Best remember her evil powers. “Marisa Danieli stopped by the construction site today.”

      Jordan looked puzzled.

      “High school,” Cole elaborated and then watched his brother’s frown disappear.

      He and his brothers had graduated from different high schools, but Jordan knew of Marisa. After her pivotal role in Cole’s suspension during senior year, she had for a time become infamous among the Serenghetti brothers and their crowd.

      “Luscious Lola Danieli?” Jordan asked, the side of his mouth turning up.

      Cole had never liked the nickname—and that was even before he’d started thinking of Marisa Lola Danieli as the high school Lolita who had led him down the path to destruction. She’d earned the tongue-in-cheek nickname in high school because she’d dressed and acted the opposite of sexy.

      He hadn’t told anyone about his intimate past with Marisa. His brothers would have had a field day with the story of The Geek and The Jock. As far as anyone knew, she was just the girl who’d scored off him—ratting out his prank to the principal like a hockey player slapping the puck into the goal for the game-winning shot.

      For years the moment the principal had let slip that Marisa was the person who’d blabbed about him had been seared into his memory. He’d never pulled another prank again.

      Still, he wasn’t merely dwelling on what had happened when they’d been about to graduate. The fact that his hockey career had ended in the past year made it bad timing for Marisa to show up and remind him of how close she’d come to derailing it before it had begun. And as he’d told Jordan, he’d accepted his new role as CEO, but it wasn’t without its frustrations. He was still on a big learning curve trying to drive Serenghetti Construction forward.

      His brother’s punch caught him full on the shoulder, sending him staggering. He brought his mind back to what was happening in the ring.

      “Come on. Show me what you’ve got,” Jordan jeered, warming up. “I haven’t run into Marisa since you two graduated from Pershing.”

      “Until today, I could say the same thing,” Cole replied.

      “So, what? She’s come back for round two now that you’re on your feet again?”

      “Hilarious.”

      “I was always the funny brother.”

      “Your sense of fraternal loyalty warms my heart,” he mocked.

      Jordan held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, nearly coming to a stop. “Hey, I’m not defending what she did. It sucked big-time for you to miss the final game and for Pershing to lose the hockey championship. Everyone avoided her wherever she went in town. But people can change.”

      Cole hit his brother with his left. “She wants me to headline a fund-raiser so Pershing can build a new gym.”

      Jordan grunted and then gave a low whistle. “Or maybe not. She’s still got guts.”

      Marisa had changed, but Cole wasn’t going to elaborate for his brother. These days there’d be nothing tongue-in-cheek about the nickname Luscious Lola, and that was the damn problem.

      Before he’d recognized her, his senses had gone on high alert, and his libido had gleefully raced to catch up. The woman was sex in heels. It should be criminal for a schoolteacher to look like her.

      The eyeglasses that she used to wear in high school were gone, and her hair was longer and loose—the ends curling in fat, bouncy curls against her shoulders. She was no longer hiding her figure under shapeless sweatshirts, and she’d filled out in all the right places. Everything was fuller, curvier and more womanly. He should know—once he’d run his hands over those breasts and thighs.

      Before she’d announced who she was, he’d been thinking the gods of TGIF were smiling down