Icebreaker Read Free Page A

unlacing his shoes. While the team talked and got ready, there was a definite psychic, if not physical, distance between Adam and the other players. They were giving him as much space in the locker room as they usually afforded him on the ice. It was something he was used to: the mixture of fear and respect that often made him a man apart, at least until they got to know him. He was not an easy person to get close to; he didn’t like to be emotionally vulnerable, which was often a roadblock when it came to friendship. Aloof was safer. Aloof allowed him to focus fully on the task at hand.
    Adam hated to admit weakness, even to himself, but deep down, he was afraid of never winning the Cup. The truth was, he needed the Blades as much as they needed him. Despite being an all-star for most of his career, Tampa Bay had only made the playoffs once in the ten years he’d played there. The Blades were probably his last shot at Stanley Cup glory.
    Adam looked around as he pulled on his practice sweater. He’d faced most of these guys on the ice for years. Jason Mitchell knew what it was like to butt heads with him; Adam couldn’t count the number of times they’d hit each other. He’d had his run-ins with Jason’s brother Eric as well. Ulf Torkelson downright hated him. That was okay. All he cared about was that they produced on the ice.
    The one wild card in the bunch was Esa Saari, a Finnish-born defenseman who it was rumored the Blades intended to pair with Adam. Saari was Adam’s opposite on the ice: an offensively minded, fast skating defenseman whose lapses in his own zone sometimes hurt the teams he’d played on.
    As if on cue, Saari spoke up. “Hey, Coach Dante, I hear your brother makes killer meatballs.”
    Everyone laughed. Adam knew from chatting with Michael that his brother, Anthony, owned an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn called Dante’s. Players ate there all the time. In fact, Michael and Ty were making plans to take Adam there one night soon. Apparently it was a tradition: take the new guy out for a meal.
    “Best in New York,” Michael boasted.
    Esa grinned. “I’m going to have to check them out.”
    With a model hanging off each arm, Adam thought scornfully. Saari was one of those athletes known as much for his lifestyle as his style of play; you couldn’t open the paper or watch celeb TV without there being some piece about Esa and who he was seen with, or what hot new restaurant he was at, or what club he was hanging out at. Unfortunately, the guy was a hockey rock star, and he knew it, too.
    “All right, you putzes,” said Michael. “Let’s get out on the ice.”
    Adam got up to leave with everyone else, but Ty popped his head in the door. “Hold on a minute, you two.” He waited until the team had cleared out. “Michael: work your usual magic, kicking their asses till they break down and cry like little girls. Adam: make it clear to these pussies that you’re not going to take any shit from them both on and off the ice.”
    Adam grinned wickedly. “Will do.”

2

    “Oh my God, did you sleep here?”
    Unlocking the front door to the law firm’s offices, Sinead found her coworker, Oliver Casey, lying on his back on one of the posh leather couches in the lobby, blinking at the ceiling. It was clear that he’d just woken up. It was also clear that he’d slept in his clothing.
    Oliver sat up with a yawn. “What the hell are you doing here at this hour? Let me guess: working.”
    “What the hell are you doing sleeping on the couch?” Despite their different temperaments, Sinead adored Oliver, and the feeling was mutual. He was manic, guzzling diet colas all day like they were water, while she was even-tempered. He flew by the seat of his pants, while she planned everything carefully. He was a womanizer who slept with half his clients, something Sinead found inconceivable. But he was a brilliant litigator, which was the reason the managing partners in the firm were willing to turn a