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  2

  “Saari, hold up.”

  The sound of his coach’s voice behind him caught Esa by surprise as he left the locker room. Usually he and Rory departed together, but today Esa had to swing by Lou’s office to pick up Nell. Rory didn’t see what the big deal was if he came along, but Esa just felt it was better he fetch Nell alone. The kid had only been in the country three days and he’d already dumped her on Lou, as if she didn’t already have enough trauma in her life.

  Esa had been lingering in the locker room, dragging his feet going to fetch her. The thought filled him with dread. What were they going to do the rest of the day? She’d had jet lag for a day and a half, so he’d been off the hook for a while. Yesterday he’d brought her to FAO Schwartz at the suggestion of his doorman. But he had no idea what to do next.

  Esa stopped, waiting for Michael. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” Michael sounded incredulous. “You’re taking care of an eight-year-old kid, that’s what.”

  “Don’t have much choice,” Esa replied with resignation as they started down the neon-lit hallway toward the elevators.

  Michael was scanning his face. “Esa, this is serious shit. You know that, right?”

  “Of course I do,” Esa replied with irritation. Jesus. He might not be a family man, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.

  “You two close?”

  “Not really,” Esa said. The admission pained him. He’d been a shitty uncle and a shitty brother. He should have visited Nell and Danika more. He should have spent more time with his sister, period. Having Nell with him brought home the fact that Danika was really dead, and he’d never see her again.

  “I saw Nell a couple of times a year.”

  “But do you get along?” Michael’s brown eyes were probing his, making it tough to run from the truth. One thing about Coach Dante: he had a knack for getting you to cough up info. Maybe because he really cared.

  “Yeah,” Esa said uncertainly. “I mean, I know she likes me. I like her: she’s a good kid.”

  “A good kid who’s been through a lot,” Michael pointed out quietly.

  Esa was silent. He and the coach continued walking.

  “Did you have anything set up for her when she arrived?”

  Esa glanced at him. “What, like her room?”

  Michael nodded.

  “Yeah. Leslie—my sister’s friend—sent a bunch of stuff over before Nell came: some clothes, books, DVD’s. I bought her pink sheets. The woman at Bloomingdale’s said little girls liked pink. And purple.” Esa paused. “She seems to like it.”

  “When does the nanny start? Where is she going to school?”

  Esa stared at him blankly. You asshole, he thought. He kept meaning to get around to taking care of both, but for some reason, he kept forgetting. Forgetting on purpose, Rory would say. Thinking that if you don’t do it, it’ll make Nell go away.

  Esa knit his eyebrows together, feigning deep thought. The corridor suddenly felt endless. “I have to double-check.”

  Michael laughed softly. “Madonn’, you haven’t even hired a nanny yet, have you?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “What? Continent hopping and flirting your ass off in trendy bars?”

  “Hey, I’m doing the best I can here, okay?” Esa retorted. He knew he deserved the rebuke; what kind of moron neglects enrolling a kid in school and lining up care? Answer: one who wanted to pretend his life wasn’t going to be pulverized into something unrecognizable.

  “Saari, the school year starts in two weeks, and preseason starts in three. You have to move fast.” Michael looked thoughtful as he smoothed back his thinning black hair. “I might be able to help you on the nanny front.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Theresa has two clients—a really famous acting couple—who are moving out to L.A. Their longtime nanny wants to stay put.”

  “Why doesn’t the nanny want to go?”

  “Her family’s here.”

  That bode well. Loyalty. It meant she’d take care of Nell for as long as he was a Blade.

  “Theresa’s met her and said she was nice,” Michael continued.

  Theresa was Michael’s wife. Together with Ty Gallagher’s wife, Janna, she ran FM PR, one of the top PR firms in Manhattan with clients ranging from professional jocks to the rich and famous. Michael wasn’t supposed to, but he was always feeding the guys tasty morsels of gossip that he got from Theresa. Which was why the next question out of Esa’s mouth was, “Who’s the couple?”

  Michael glanced behind them to make sure they were safe, then told him.

  Esa was floored. “Wow.”

  “I know. Real prima donnas. So she’d be used to dealing with rich assholes like you.” He didn’t seem to be kidding. “Want me to ask Theresa about her?”

  “Hell, yeah. Tell Theresa I’ll pay the nanny whatever she wants. If she could start at the weekend, that would be great.”

  “Saari, you have to meet the woman and interview her first. She’s not Mary freakin’ Poppins, just turning up on your doorstep like magic.”

  Esa’s heart sank. “Right.”

  “I’ll talk to Theresa, and if the woman is interested, I’ll have Theresa pass her info on to you. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Well, the more I can get you focused on the ice this season, the better.” Esa knew what was coming. “You have to kick it up a notch. You were good last year, but you weren’t great, and we need great. I need you to be great. Ty needs you to be great.”

  Esa deflated. “Yeah, I hear ya.”

  As if taking on Nell wasn’t enough, he was in the last year of his contract, and according to his agent, the Blades seemed in no hurry to re-sign him. It would be nice going into the season knowing this was taken care of. Blades’ management dragging their feet was one more distraction he didn’t need. His life had gone from simple to complex overnight, and he hated it.

  * * *

  Esa found Nell sitting at Lou’s desk, her eyes glued to his computer screen as her fingers flew across the keyboard. She looked so serious sitting there in the office chair, a beat-up old wooden number that Lou refused to part with. He had no interest in “ergonomics or anything of that bullshit.” The chair he’d started with decades back was fine with him. The only change was that now, because of his bad back, he sat on a couple of pillows, too.

  Nell hadn’t noticed Esa yet, which gave him a chance to study her. Christ, she looked so much like his sister, with that long, long blond hair and big blue eyes.

  But she differed from Danika in one fundamental way: she didn’t laugh or smile very much. Esa knew this was a recent development. He remembered one Christmas at his sister’s a few years back when Nell had been giggling her head off, watching a cartoon about some horrible kid who’s always pulling pranks on people. It was hard to believe she’d turned into the intense little girl sitting in front of him.

  “Hey.” Esa joined her at the computer, peering over her shoulder. “Looking at anything good?”

  “I’m researching Italian restaurants in the San Francisco area for Mr. Capesi.” Nell’s voice was quiet but lyrical; “posh,” as his sister would say. Esa agreed: she sounded like Keira Knightley.

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” Lou asked affectionately as he waddled over to his desk, giving Esa the stare of death before turning his full attention to Nell. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Capesi. You can call me Lou.”

  Nell looked up at Esa from beneath her long, blond lashes, unsure of what to do. He could see she was desperate not to misstep.

  “It’s okay to call him Lou,” Esa assured her.

  “Lou,” she repeated as her eyes sparked to life. “A boy in my school once had a hamster named Lou. He escaped from his cage and got run over by a mail lorry.”

  “What the f—what’s a lorry?” Lou asked.

  “A truck,” Esa supplied.

  “I’m not surprised the hamster got run ove
r,” said Lou. “Lous don’t always have the best of luck. Anyway, that’s what you call me from now on,” he told Nell. “Sounds a helluva lot better than Mr. Capesi, doesn’t it?”

  Nell nodded. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Esa swore he detected a faint smile on her lips. She liked Lou, she was comfortable with him. That was a good sign.

  “What have you got her researching restaurants for?” Esa wanted to know.

  “Whaddaya think? Me and the missus are headed out to Frisco for a long weekend in October. I want to make sure we hit the right places.”

  “You couldn’t look this up yourself?”

  “I wanted to help him,” Nell interjected.

  “She sees I’m busy, she’s a good kid, she wants to help,” Lou finished for her. “Right, doll?”

  Nell nodded, looking pleased with the explanation her tough talking, morbidly obese translator had given.

  “There you go,” Lou said to Esa, as if it were self-evident.

  Esa smiled at Nell. Tentative, he put a friendly hand on her shoulder, but only for a moment, since he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. She’d been so stiff when he’d hugged her at the airport it had actually hurt his feelings. Better not to push.

  “Ready to go?”

  Nell nodded yes, but she didn’t move. Fuck, Esa thought. She’s as enthused about going with me as I am with taking her.

  “Before you go,” Lou said to Nell, while continuing to murder Esa with his eyes, “I just need a minute to talk to your uncle about something.”

  Nell’s eyes remained on the screen. “Me, right?”

  “No,” said Lou. “Just stuff.”

  Nell shrugged indifferently and went back to Googling restaurants. Esa followed Lou through the PR department’s outer office and out into the hall.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” said Esa, “so let me apologize in advance: I’m sorry for asking you to watch Nell. I know it was wrong, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Hey, she’s a great little girl, lucky for you. But you can’t fuckin’ do that again, Saari. It’s not right. You couldn’t get the Leprechaun’s wife to look after her?”

  “Erin works, you know.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot: sorting out old pictures or some shit—”

  “She’s an archivist, Lou,” Esa corrected impatiently.

  “Besides, I wanted Nell to see me while I practiced. She’s only been here three days. I thought it might be a bit much to let someone else watch her when—”

  Lou held up his hand. “Stop. I know you, Saari. I know the way you think, and I know what you think about. Worrying that deeply about your niece’s mental state isn’t you. Admit it: you had no idea what to do with her, so you brought her to practice with you.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Lou turned on his trademark glare. “All right, yes.”

  “What’re you going to do with her the rest of today?”

  “I don’t know,” Esa said miserably.

  “Of course you don’t, because you hot shit, Finnish pricks don’t know anything.”

  “This hot shit, Finnish prick agreed to pose in the buff for some ‘Hockey Hunk’ calendar for you,” Esa pointed out tersely, the mortification of the photo shoot rushing back to him. Never again.

  Lou was shaking his head in reprimand. “You have to do more stuff like that, Saari. I’ve told you for two goddamn years: more PR, less fucking around.”

  “I don’t ‘fuck around,’ Lou. I like going out with beautiful women. How is that fucking around?”

  “It’s not just the women. It’s the whole bachelor ethos.”

  “I’m a bachelor!”

  Lou tilted his head in Nell’s direction. “Yeah? Well, maybe you should cut back. You owe it to the kid, at the very least.”

  “Right,” said Esa, fighting resentment.

  “Anyway, the babysitting . . .”

  “Look, Lou: it’s Friday. I’ll have a nanny by Monday. I swear.”

  Lou looked skeptical. “Yeah? What’re you going to do? Buy one at Bloomingdale’s?”

  Esa ignored Lou’s remark. “The coach has a lead on one. If she’s interested, I can talk to her tomorrow and this whole issue can be wrapped up by Sunday.”

  “What if you don’t like her?”

  “I’ll like her.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Jesus Christ, why are you being so negative?” Esa snarled. “Theresa’s met her and said she was nice.”

  Lou just grunted. Esa got the sense he was almost disappointed that hiring a nanny might be easy for him, that somehow Esa didn’t deserve it.

  “Thanks for watching her,” Esa said to Lou. He was genuinely grateful.

  “Yeah, well, don’t make me do it again,” Lou muttered.

  “I’ve got to ask, though: what the hell were you talking to her about at practice that held her so rapt?”

  Lou stifled a burp. “What do you think, you cidrule? You.”

  3

  “Thanks for stopping by on such short notice, Michelle.”

  Michelle Beck smiled as Theresa Falconetti ushered her into her corner office at FM PR. When Theresa called, Michelle’s assumption was that the Karles were trying to make an appeal to her, through Theresa, to reconsider moving to L.A. with them so she could continue being their nanny. She was surprised when Theresa told her she knew of another nanny position that might suit her well. Michelle was intrigued: She’d planned to take advantage of her severance package and take a little time off before trying to find her next job. But she decided she’d be foolish not to hear what Theresa had to say.

  “Can I have Terrence get you anything?” Theresa checked with a cordial smile. “Water? Some coffee? Tea?”

  “Nah, I’m fine.”

  Mention of FM PR’s receptionist didn’t exactly fill Michelle with the warm fuzzies since, when she’d walked through the door, Terrence had given her outfit not the once-over, but the twice-over, his gaze haughty from behind his frameless spectacles. She could have sworn she heard Terrence murmur a disapproving, “Tsk, tsk,” under his breath. She wasn’t rich and famous like FM’s clients, but it wasn’t like she’d shown up looking like some slob, either.

  Michelle sat down on Theresa’s couch, quickly taking in the office, which was dominated by a wall lined with photos of Theresa’s famous clients, including Michelle’s former employers. Just as in real life, the Karles’ teeth were blindingly white, their smiles brimming with self-confidence and charm from their tanned, unlined faces. Michelle smiled sadly to herself; she’d loved taking care of their kids, though the couple themselves had often put her nerves to the test.

  “Let’s talk about this nanny position,” Theresa began, joining Michelle on the couch. “It’s for one of the players on the New York Blades, Esa Saari. Ever heard of him?”

  Michelle vaguely recognized the name: her friend Marcus worked as a dog walker for a woman named Delilah Gould, who was married to Jason Mitchell, one of the Blades. Michelle inwardly chuckled about how New York’s social connections could sometimes resemble those of a small town. She was pretty sure she’d heard Marcus mention Esa Saari, which probably meant he was handsome. Marcus never missed a chance to talk about hunky hockey players.

  “Sort of,” Michelle answered.

  “I’ll assume you’re not big on reading the gossip pages, then,” Theresa replied wryly.

  “Not all the time.”

  Looking at Theresa, Michelle thought to herself: Maybe I do look like a slob. Theresa was tall and thin, with a long, curly mane of dark hair. Her makeup and manicure were perfect, her business suit impeccable. But Michelle’s feelings of inadequacy slowly faded as she reminded herself that one of the perks of being a nanny was that she didn’t have to get dressed up for work.

  “He’s a winger. His speed is what—” Theresa started, then stopped with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I always assume everyone knows about hockey.”

  “Oh, I know about hockey, believe me,” Mi
chelle chortled. “I grew up in a house with two rabid Islander fans.”

  “I won’t hold that against you,” Theresa joked, “or mention it to my husband. Let me cut straight to the chase: Esa is single, and he’s just gotten custody of his eight-year-old niece.”

  Michelle shifted uneasily, not sure if she wanted to know the answer to the question she was going to ask. “What happened to his niece’s parents?”

  “Her mom, Esa’s sister, was single. She used a sperm donor.” Theresa’s eyes skimmed the portrait of her own family on her desk. “She died in a plane crash.”

  “Oh, God, how awful.”

  “I know,” Theresa agreed quietly. It wasn’t hard to see that at this moment, the mother in her took precedence over the businesswoman. “Anyway, Esa needs a nanny now. As in now.”

  “Live-in?”

  Theresa nodded. “Michael said his place is nice. Really big. It’s on the Upper East Side.”

  The locale didn’t concern Michelle as much as her potential employer.

  “What’s Esa Saari like? Do you know?”

  Theresa hesitated. “He’s a great hockey player.”

  “Theresa.”

  “He’s an egomaniac who’s perpetually on the prowl.”

  Michelle frowned. “Sounds great.”

  “A lot of the single guys on the team are.”

  “A lot of single guys in general are,” Michelle said. “Is he a jerk? Because frankly, I’m done working for jerks.”

  A knowing look passed between them regarding the Karles, who often mistook Michelle for the family servant rather than the children’s caretaker.

  “I don’t know Esa well enough to answer that,” Theresa replied honestly. “I know he works hard on the ice and is a great player, I know women fall at his feet, and I know he loves it that they do. I don’t think he’d be around very much, to be honest.”

  Michelle considered this. A largely absentee employer could be a definite plus, depending on the circumstances. But Michelle wasn’t sure she wanted to be around a bigheaded jock at all, especially a womanizing jock. Last but not least, she’d never been employed by someone single.