Love On The Line: Haven, #5

By Beth Gildersleeve

He can't afford distractions….  

Alex Preston is an Olympic silver medalist striving for gold. He's also developed a revolutionary performance fabric and started a new company to create elite athletic wear. But Alex is more interested in training for the Olympic team than on the piddly details involved in a start-up. It's a good thing his new marketing director has a great head for business. But how can he focus on anything when her sharp mind and curvy body are driving him to distraction?  

 

She's determined to succeed… 

London Banks is in over her head.  She's made peace with her curves, and learned long ago to hide her soft heart behind a Teflon exterior. But Alex is dumping more work on her and won't listen to her vision for the company. Outside work, though, London is falling for him, but would it ruin the image of the Olympic athlete to be seen with a girl that looks like her?   

 

In his race for gold, will she get left behind?  

Biathlon training has taught Alex how to take advantage of an opening, but London isn't giving him any room to make his move. He wants both her and gold, but she's convinced she'll ruin him and his company's success. Can London overcome her fears to support Alex's Olympic dreams? Will they both go the distance when their love is on the line?  

 

If you like a feel-good romance filled with witty banter and lots of heart, buy Love On The Line today!  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Gildersleeve
• Release date: Oct 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201210267

Beth Gildersleeve

Beth Gildersleeve lives for a happily ever after, especially when it's part of a contemporary sweet romance story. Beth's a big fan of Dr. Brené Brown and her work around shame, vulnerability, and bravery. Her characters' struggles and successes reflect these themes. When Beth isn't plotting or writing, she's busy Googling answers to her adult daughters' questions (they still think she knows everything), finding misplaced items for her husband of almost thirty years, serving her rescued dogs' needs, losing at Words with Friends, and searching for the last three books to complete her Betty Neels collection. She is a member of RWA and Northern Lights Writers.

Book preview

Chapter 1

T-156 days

The bar was elbow deep, but Alex squeezed his way in. If there was one thing biathlon had taught him, it was how to take advantage of an opening. Jackson Wyatt, his former grad school roommate and now a silent partner in Alex’s new company, Alex Preston Athletic Wear for Elite Athletes, followed closely on his heels.

The bartender greeted Jackson and took their drink orders. Alex asked if she could check on the status of their appetizer order. He knew the men back at their table were hungry.

Sorry about that, hon. I’ll send the bar-back to the kitchen to check. Do you want him to bring your drinks, too, or are you going to wait for them?

We’ll wait, Alex answered, leaning against the bar. He scanned the room as Jackson asked various questions about his long drive from Lake Placid, New York, to Haven, Minnesota.

You know, you and CJ are welcome to stay at the hotel as long as you need to, Jackson reminded him again.

We’re good. The rental on the townhouse starts on Sunday, so we’ll move in that afternoon. The moving company is supposed to show up with all of CJ’s stuff midweek.

No bare-bones living for you then? Jackson asked. Alex shook his head and sighed.

I love my brother, but there’s a stereotype for professional athletes for a reason. I believe he’s bringing two gaming systems, three huge televisions, and a multitude of kitchen gadgets. Not to mention all the training equipment. I’m not sure where we’re going to put it all.

Well, there’s lots of space at the old mill you’re renting for APAWEA. Use it for storage or set up a gym there.

Not a bad idea, Alex said, as his eyes strayed to the front door. Wow! Alex thought, his brain skidding to a halt before picking up speed as he watched the blond bombshell step further into the room and tuck her sunglasses into her purse. His hands gripped the bar behind him. Platinum blond with eye-popping curves, and even at a distance, he felt the back off, bub waves vibrating off her. It felt like one of those pin-up models from World War II had come to life. He took a deep breath. Jackson said something, and Alex shrugged. He couldn’t focus on his friend. The woman owned his attention.

She made her way through the crowd, and Alex marveled at the way her hips moved and her summery dress swished around her legs. Classy and sexy. She stopped at a man at their table—Croix maybe?—bent toward him, and whispered something in his ear. Alex caught a hint of cleavage, and CJ must have too, since he leaned toward the woman. And now that CJ’s seen her, fantasy time is over. Alex frowned as he continued to watch. Croix laughed, and the woman grinned before turning away. She took a few steps before her head swiveled back to CJ. She tilted it to the side, studying his brother. She bit her lip and walked up to CJ, who remained seated, putting him at eye level with her bust.

Ass, Alex mumbled.

What was that? Jackson asked, tilting his head toward Alex. Alex didn’t respond, but Jackson tensed next to him. The woman said something to CJ, and Alex wished he could read lips. Hell, who was he kidding? He’d rather kiss those lips than read them. He’d traveled the world and had met more than his share of women, but none of them had immediately captured his attention like she had.

Oh, good, there’s the apps, Jackson said, as the server set the loaded nachos, buffalo chicken wings, and sliders onto their table.

The woman spoke again, and CJ nodded his head. He shifted his body as if to stand, but the woman put her hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. Alex swallowed in disappointment. She leaned into CJ, and with her free hand, she picked up the tray of buffalo chicken wings and smashed them on CJ’s chest, chased by a glass of water on his lap.

Alex thought he heard Jackson swear under his breath, but he didn’t look at his friend. He was too busy watching her hips as she flounced out of the bar with her head held high. He knew he should be on CJ’s side, but damn if he hadn’t waited his whole life to see that.

At least she didn’t grab the nachos. I’ve never been a chicken wing fan, Alex said easily. Who was that? he asked, instantly liking the woman who disliked his stepbrother. CJ looked outraged as he stared at the woman’s retreating back.

Let’s grab the beers, Iceman, and I’ll tell you back at the table, Jackson said. Alex didn’t like the tone in his voice, but he hated the nickname even more. It was fine in grad school, but eventually his teammates had heard it and started using it. And then it followed him to international meets. Once upon a time, melting the Iceman had been everyone’s goal. He missed those days.

By the time they reached their table, a few servers had joined Jackson’s friends in cleaning up the mess. CJ stood there, arms wide, as his damp, red-stained shirt clung to him. The best part was she’d hit his lap with the water, so it looked like CJ had wet himself. Alex bit the inside of his cheek to hold in his laughter. Croix also seemed to be holding in a laugh, but the other men looked stunned.

Did you see that? CJ all but yelled at him as a piece of chicken dropped from his upper thigh onto the floor.

Yes, Alex said. What did you say to her?

Nothing! She asked if I was CJ Mack and when I said yes, she went bat-shit crazy on me!

Well, women don’t usually do that without a reason, Croix pointed out. At least not in my experience.

I don’t even know her. Who is she? CJ demanded.

Jackson sighed heavily. That was London Banks. Your new marketing director.

Alex dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, the captivating mystery woman was his employee. Not to mention she and CJ had a past.

Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her, Alex begged his stepbrother.

Well, if I did, I don’t remember, so that doesn’t say much for her, does it? CJ snapped, as he pulled his clinging shirt away from him.

Doesn’t say much for you either, Miller, Jackson’s attorney friend, said, and Alex agreed. He was doing a great job alienating these men.

Don’t be an ass, Alex warned his brother, and CJ dropped into his chair.

Sorry, guys. Really. Believe it or not, I’ve never had food dumped on me in public. He took a deep breath. I’m not really an ass. Just an unemployed football player with wing sauce congealing on me and a cold, wet lap.

At CJ’s admission, Alex felt sorry for him. Since becoming a free agent, CJ had seemed lost without a team. And it got worse with each week that passed. The chances of him being picked up were slim to none.

So, you didn’t sleep with her? Parker asked. Parker was another of Jackson’s friends. In hindsight, meeting all of Jackson’s close friends at once hadn’t been a good idea, but his social-butterfly brother had been getting antsy at the hotel, so Alex had accepted Jackson’s invitation. He’d spent most of his life bending to CJ. Why stop now?

CJ scratched his head, and Alex sensed the gears grinding between his brother’s ears. I don’t think so, CJ admitted. There weren’t that many that I’d forget about someone so stunning.

London is friends with all of your wives, yes? Alex asked, and the men nodded their heads. I know I’m asking a big favor, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell your wives about this.

Hard to do since they witnessed it, Miller pointed out. Yep, he’s the lawyer.

True, but maybe play dumb on who we are? Just say we’re guests at the hotel, and Jackson took pity on us. I’d like to see how our new marketing director spins this on Monday morning, Alex explained as the headache started behind his left eye.

I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that one, Croix said, and the other men nodded.

I’m looking for a running partner tomorrow if anyone is interested, Alex said, changing the topic. He needed to stop talking and thinking about London. His employee. The woman who may or may not have had a one-night stand with his brother. He needed to focus on training. Training would get him back on Team USA and back on the podium. Fantasizing about a woman wouldn’t.

Late morning? Jackson asked.

Of course. Alex scoffed at Jackson’s stupid question. Alex’s hatred of early mornings had not changed. He was a night owl and wished the world didn’t run on early-bird schedules.

Perfect, Jackson said. The swans are brunching so a run sounds great. Miller?

Wait. CJ held up his huge paw. Swans are brunching? As in birds? He sounded confused.

No, as in women. Croix got tired of saying all of their names, so he nicknamed them the swans, Jackson said.

Seemed fitting since they’re prettier than hens, Croix explained.

Miller, are you in? Jackson pressed.

I’d better. Wren won’t save me a caramel roll unless I do. If Alex remembered correctly, Miller was married to Wren. Now that he lived in Haven, Alex would need to pay attention when Jackson talked. Jackson’s friends might become his, too, so he should attempt to be social, or at least remember who went with whom. And Parker has a kid, and he’s getting married soon. Alex was impressed that he’d remembered that little tidbit.

Homemade? Croix asked.

Yes. Not as delicious as Jackson’s grandma’s are, but still good enough to get me to do her bidding.

Which is? CJ asked.

A run, and for me to cook dinner so she can paint all afternoon, Miller admitted.

What is it with the women in this town? Why can’t they let a man eat his sweets in peace without guilt or an interrogation? No one had an answer to Croix’s complaint.

I don’t want to cramp your style, Parker said. If I came, I’d have Charlie with me in the baby jogger.

I don’t care where we go, I just need to run, Alex said. The men coordinated times and left Parker to determine the route. Alex settled back against his chair. Life looked pretty good, but it would look a heck of a lot better if he could stop thinking about the troublesome London Banks.

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London was late. She hated to be late, but self-preservation was important, too. If she was late to brunch, then she’d only have to explain herself once.

The few pots of blooming annuals added nice splashes of color to Emily and Jackson’s small front yard. Earlier in the summer, her friends had spent an afternoon planting perennials around the yards’ river birches. Slowly but surely, Emily was adding her touches to Jackson’s former bachelor pad.

Their home was one of four identical units on the Poplar River just north of downtown Haven. Theirs was closest to the cliff, and Miller and Wren’s home was closest to Haven. Emily’s yard was understated elegance, whereas Wren’s was a riot of color. Pots of every shape and size overflowed with multicolored blooms. That is what happens when a former florist marries a man with a pottery hobby, London thought, glancing around before turning her attention back to Emily’s house.

Thinking about her friends’ happiness brought on a familiar wave of loneliness, but she brushed it off. London anchored her sunglasses to the top of her head as she stepped to Emily’s front door. The note taped to it said they were back on the deck. The friendly note didn’t make London feel any better.

She wanted this brunch to go well. Scratch that. She needed it to go well. She had missed a lot of her friends’ lives because she’d been traveling so much. She didn’t want to feel like an outsider when they got together. She wanted to understand the inside jokes and code words. She’d always prided herself on her independence. But that independence wasn’t keeping her warm at night, or filling her heart.

Reinforcing her friendships would go a long way toward filling the void. Not that she’d tell them that. No, to the outside world she was still London Banks, Queen of Cool. London wielded sarcasm as a sword and indifference as a shield. She could take it or leave. Showing your passion only increased your odds of losing it or having it taken away from you.

London opened the door and kicked off her sandals. They joined the others in the small pile. Her friends’ laughter greeted her as she walked up the stairs. A sharp beep from the kitchen caught her attention. Coffee’s done, she thought as she walked into the small galley kitchen. Maybe if I come bearing coffee, the inquisition won’t be as bad? London briefly hesitated before grabbing the carafe and making her way through the living room to the deck.

She saw Emily, Wren, Rica, Krista, and Nelie seated around the large table. They’d opened the dark green patio umbrella to block the late morning sun. I come bearing gifts, she said to her friends as she opened the patio door. Emily quickly stood and took the carafe from her.

And I hope you have an explanation, too, Krista said. Leave it to Krista to cut to the chase.

Leave her be, Wren scolded. She’ll be more apt to talk once she’s had her coffee and her belly’s full. Emily poured London a cup of coffee as she sat down next to her.

London smiled gratefully after she took her first sip. Aren’t these the mugs Miller and Wren made you as a wedding gift? she asked.

They are, Emily said. The egg bake and caramel rolls should be done any minute now, but you can start on the fruit or muffins, if you’d like. Krista passed both to her, and London helped herself. Last night’s dinner of a handful of crackers coupled with a restless night’s sleep and a walk here had left her hungry. London tried to relax as she listened to the surrounding chatter. The food helped to calm her, but not enough.

Where’s Andi? London asked.

Working on another bid, Emily said.

At the rate Handi Andi is going, we’ll be lucky to get a honeymoon, but at least Parker won’t be laid off this winter, Rica said. London knew their friend Andi was promoting Parker to head up the day-to-day operations of Handi Andi when she returned to school full time in the fall so she could finally finish her architecture degree.

Wren told everyone about a run-in Croix had had with a client and how DD, Rica’s dog, who came to work with her, had saved the day. She stopped mid-sentence and stood up. I need to run home and fetch the food. I’ll be right back.

How do you know that? Krista asked, tilting her head.

Wren held up her arm and wiggled it as she walked away. Over her shoulder she said, My watch told me. We installed a smart oven last month,

Leave it to Miller to have the latest and greatest kitchen gadget, Krista said.

Well, don’t be telling Parker, or he’ll want one, too. And that’s not in the Palma-Thorpe budget, Rica warned her.

So, he’s still doing most of the cooking? Nelie asked.

Yes. His newest obsession is researching homemade baby food. I see a lot of soft food in our future. Talk then turned to Charlotte, Parker’s—and soon to be Rica’s—one-year-old, until Wren returned carrying a tray with the egg bake and a pan of caramel rolls. London’s stomach growled and Nelie laughed.

That’s what you get for running out on dinner last night. Next time you want to dump ice water on a man, I’d appreciate it if you did it at another restaurant. We were busy enough without having to clean up that mess, Nelie scolded, but there wasn’t any heat behind her words.

Don’t forget the buffalo chicken wings, Krista added helpfully.

I’m sorry, London apologized. And she was. Regret had set in the moment her hand had touched the plate of wings, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Years of resentment and rage had pushed her on. But think of all the free advertising you’re getting on social media.

Krista snorted. ‘Crazy lady lets loose on a celebrity’ has got to be good for the Galley.

What do you mean, celebrity? Rica asked.

That was CJ Mack from the Ravens. Football pro-bowler three years in a row, MVP, and seems to have won everything except the Super Bowl. Right now he’s a free agent, but with his age and history of injuries, it’s doubtful he’ll get picked up. His dad is Bob Mack, the head coach of the Wyoming Tetons, Emily reported.

London noticed the shocked look on her friends’ faces, and Emily must have, too.

What? Emily shrugged her shoulders. I overheard Jackson and Miller talking.

Whew. Nelie dramatically wiped her forehead. For a moment there, I actually thought you knew what you were talking about.

Well, that explains why he’s constantly ordering food from room service, Krista said. The rumor mill amongst the kitchen staff is that he’s settling down in Haven.

London groaned and tilted her head back. What did I do to deserve this?

So spill it, London. Why did you dump food on CJ Mack in the middle of my restaurant on a busy Saturday night? Nelie asked.

Don’t forget the water, Krista added. London dragged her sunglasses from the top of her head and perched them on her nose. She needed prep time and protection.

Let’s just say the Mack Attack wasn’t just on the field. London kept her voice light and carefree. As if what CJ had done hadn’t changed the trajectory of her life.

He attacked you? Emily asked, leaning forward and squeezing London’s hand. London pulled it back and wrapped it around her coffee mug. She lifted the mug and wiggled it to buy time. Wren passed the carafe to her. London added cream to her mug, something she didn’t normally do, but it gave her time to collect her thoughts. How best to explain a pivotal moment in her life? One she rarely took out and examined.

You reported him? Krista asked, and London heard the assumption that Krista thought she had.

No. I didn’t. It was before the #metoo movement. And honestly, if I hadn’t gotten fired, it would have been one of the crowning moments in my life. London reached for another blueberry muffin, split it in two, and carefully buttered it. These are really great, Emily. Homemade?

Yes. Jackson and I got the berries at the farmers’ market yesterday. Quit stalling before Krista bursts.

I was fresh out of college and had landed a PR job with the Chiefs. The job looked great on paper, but in reality, it was a glorified babysitting job for their latest draft picks. CJ was one of them. One of my jobs was to make sure the hotel bar was empty of players by curfew when we traveled. The veterans were no problem, but the younger members were. She stopped for a sip of coffee. Anyway, we were in Buffalo, and CJ was surrounded by fans. Female fans. I dragged him out of there, and he wasn’t happy about it. When we got to his room, he made a few lewd suggestions and tried to kiss me. I ducked under his arm the first time, but he caught me on his second attempt. It was like pushing away a brick wall. I’d been out to dinner with the other female staff earlier in the evening, so I still had my heels on. I kneed him in the groin and then stomped on his foot. He got the message and dropped his arms. Unfortunately, one of the assistant coaches witnessed it and saw CJ limp into his room. London stopped and played with her silverware before admitting the rest.

The next morning, I got a call from the head of marketing. He told me to pack my bags and there would be a ticket waiting for me at the airport. My final paycheck would be sent to my address on file.

They fired you? But you were the victim, Wren said. London shrugged.

I don’t understand, Nelie said.

She damaged an asset, Emily explained, her voice heavy with disgust.

Bingo, London said unenthusiastically as she pointed to Emily. I’d bruised CJ’s foot. He could still play, but if I’d broken his foot, they would have sidelined him. And, as Emily said, he was an asset to the organization while I was expendable.

Emily squeezed London’s hand again, but this time London didn’t pull away.

I’m sorry you had to go through that, Krista said, and London smiled weakly at her.

Well, that just makes me madder than a wet hen, Wren said as she tossed her napkin on the table. London chuckled, and her laughter grew until her eyes teared.

I don’t see how you can possibly laugh at this. You were sexually harassed and then fired, Krista said.

London wiped her eyes. I’m sorry, but Wren’s fierce face looked like a wet hen, and it set me off. I’ve bottled those emotions for so long. It feels good to let them out.

Sharing the crap can be cathartic, Emily said. That’s what friends are for.

As horrid as it was, I learned a lot from the experience, and I don’t think I’d be where I am now if it hadn’t been for CJ’s poor behavior.

Is that why you’ve always worked for yourself? Rica asked.

Probably, but all that changes tomorrow with the new job.

So, you’re excited? Emily asked.

I am. This new position will be a challenge for me. The website design and social media marketing I can do in my sleep, but I’ve never managed all the marketing. It’s exciting and a bit scary, she admitted to everyone.

And you really haven’t met the owner of the company? Krista asked.

Not face-to-face, but I’ve talked to Alex Preston, the owner, many times on the phone. Jackson recommended me for the job, and if I can’t trust Jackson, who can I trust?

No more working from home and in your jammie bottoms, Nelie teased her.

Not at first. He’s training for the Olympics, so he might not be around a lot. And, the only other employee I need to worry about is the sales director. Once everything is sorted, I’m hoping to be back in my pj’s working from home. So, Rica, catch me up on your wedding plans. Sharing time was over.

She’d answered their questions, and she’d found a bit of peace. Now it was time to move on. London wasn’t one to dwell. She would bitch and moan, but she wouldn’t wallow. She preferred to pick up the pieces and move on. But sometimes running so quickly meant leaving pieces of herself behind. Reliving the CJ experience had brought her some forgiveness and closure. But she knew it wasn’t done. It would be a long walk home with only her doubts and insecurities as companions. Yuck.

Rica took her cue and told everyone about the wedding decisions they’d made. The garden wedding would be at Mrs. Hart’s house since Jackson’s grandma had been responsible for getting Rica on the plane to Arizona to win Parker back. Her sister, Abby, would be her only attendant, and Jackson was standing up with Parker. It will be very low key. Family and friends. Cake and punch. It’s all I need, Rica said and, from the earnest tone in her voice and the glow on her face, London knew her friend told the truth. It was too bad for Rica that Parker wanted more for his bride on their wedding day.

London couldn’t wait to capture the surprises of that day. Parker had asked her to act as the photographer, which was high praise coming from a former photojournalist. Krista, Nelie, and Mrs. Hart were organizing a buffet meal. Wren was in charge of flowers and decorations. Emily donated rooms at the Hart for the out-of-town family members and she’d oversee the day to make sure it all went off without a hitch.

Wedding talk wound down, and London saw her opportunity to escape. She helped clear the table and then excused herself with a list of chores a mile long that needed doing to get ready for tomorrow. Her first day at work. As an employee.

Emily caught her in a hug as she walked London out. Well, I’m excited for you and happy for us. It will be nice to have you here and not flying everywhere for work.

Thanks, London mumbled as she quickly stepped back. Wish me luck tomorrow.

They’re the lucky ones. You’ll do great, Emily said as London walked out the door.

I wish I had Emily’s certainty. A little bit of Pollyanna would go a long way right about now. She had to shake this mood. Attitude was everything. Normally, London was like a lioness, the Queen of the Jungle. But now she felt like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She’d heard Wren use that description once, and it had always stuck with her. She’d never thought it would be stuck on her. Get over yourself. What’s done is done.

London had told the truth. If not for her experience with CJ, she never would have had the motivation to go out on her own. She’d created her business so she could be her own boss. Her fate wasn’t in anyone’s hands but hers, which made the new job even more frightening. After years of convincing herself that being self-employed was the best thing ever, it was hard to switch gears and tell herself a different story. That she would enjoy working for someone else. Building their business. Making them shine.

But she had to change the narrative. She couldn’t support herself otherwise. The last few years had been tough, with all the travel on top of hustling for jobs and keeping the pipeline full. She’d already started to burn out before the plane crash.

If she’d stuck to her guns, she never would have been in the accident. But the client had insisted on a mid-project, face-to-face meeting. One-day meetings were a waste of time, but since they were footing the bill, she hadn’t pushed it. During the