Double the Heat by Deirdre Martin, Lori Foster, Elizabeth Bevarly, Christie Ridgway Page A

Olympic Center hosted various tournaments year-round. None of the players had ever struck her as brutish.
    “Ah, here come Charlie and Kathleen,” said Aunt Mary with seeming relief.
    Lennie decided that this time, she would be the first to proffer a hand. “Hello,” she said, taking Kathleen O’Brien’s hand. “I’m Lennie Buckley, Mary’s niece.”
    Mrs. O’Brien looked momentarily disapproving of Lennie’s outfit (a fleeting reaction Lennie had grown expert at perceiving), and then collected herself. “It’s so lovely to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you.”
    Lennie did her best to hide her discomfort as she moved to shake Mr. O’Brien’s hand. What on earth could her aunt be telling people?
    “Lovely to meet you,” said Mr. O’Brien, echoing his wife. “Your aunt says you’re here to get a degree in fashion?”
    “Yes.”
    “Our daughter, Sinead, dresses very fashionably,” said Mrs. O’Brien. “We’ll have to introduce you to her. She’s a lawyer,” she finished proudly.
    “I’d love to meet her,” said Lennie. God, all these people were so nice . This wasn’t how she expected New Yorkers to act.
    Mrs. O’Brien laid a warm hand on Lennie’s shoulder. “Are you hungry? I’ve just made a new batch of stew.”
    “Oh, I’m fine, thanks.”
    “You’re sure, now?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right, then.” She turned her attention to Lennie’s aunt. “We’ll walk over to bingo together Thursday night, yes?”
    “Of course.”
    “Nice to meet you, love,” Mr. O’Brien said again. He turned to his wife, gallantly offering her his arm. “Back to the kitchen for us, eh, macushla ?”
    “All work and no play, we are.” Mrs. O’Brien chuckled.
    Lennie turned to her aunt. “Would you mind if I went back to the apartment? I feel really zonked all of a sudden.”
    “Go ahead, honey. I’m just going to stay about an hour or so to catch up, then I’ll be home.”
    Lennie kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Thanks.”
    Her aunt smoothed her hair. “I’m so glad you’re here. Though I do wish you dressed a bit more—”
    “Normal? Don’t worry; I do sometimes.”
    “That’s a relief.”
    She and Aunt Mary started back toward the bar. Lennie could have sworn a few of the hockey players checked her out as she walked by, but she couldn’t be sure.
     
     
    “To Ivan the Terrible!”
    Laughing, Sebastian Ivanov tossed a shot of whiskey down his throat as his new teammates toasted him. He’d just played his first game as a second-line winger for the New York Blades, scoring a goal in the last two minutes of the third period that propelled the team to victory over New Jersey. Assistant coach Michael Dante had commended him heartily, and head coach Ty Gallagher, a renowned hard-ass, had offered a curt “Good job.” That was enough for Sebastian; after twelve years of playing in Russian and European hockey leagues, the NHL had finally come knocking—every player’s dream. Acknowledgment from Gallagher was a sure sign he was getting off on the right foot. He fully intended to play his guts out to make sure he proved he could play the North American-style game.
    “So, Russky,” said defenseman Ulf Torkelson, slapping him on the back, “what do you think of the Big Apple so far?”
    “So far, so good.” In all honesty, he hadn’t really had a chance to explore his new town, what with moving, training camp, pre-season, and now the actual start of the season. Even so, what he had experienced so far delighted him. The people of New York were more outgoing than he’d expected. He loved the city’s unique vibrancy, so different from the mood he often encountered at home. Best of all, there was a sizable Russian population out in Brighton Beach; in fact, his father’s only brother, Yuri, lived there. Sebastian hadn’t seen his uncle in years, and was looking forward to making the trip out to Brooklyn the first chance he got, not only to see his relative but also to eat some Russian