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“Mom,” I groan. “You’ll scare her away.”
My mother has a manic gleam in her eyes. “No, I won’t. She’s made of sterner stuff.”
My mother reaches out and pats Ruby’s hand.
“What’s on your mind now, dear?” she asks.
Ruby sighs. “Okay. The professor is getting absolutely everything he deserves. For some reason, though, I feel a little guilty about getting Nick kicked out of school.”
I suggested to Ruby that she tell the university about how Nick copied his test from the girl sitting in front of him. It will be easy to verify, and that will be the last straw.
“He almost got you kicked out, based on a lie,” my mother points out.
“True,” Ruby sighs. “I mean, he was desperate to save his own skin. He shouldn’t have lied about me. Still... his being on that team is his whole identity.”
“Would it help you to know that his lawyer is threatening to sue you, and that even though he’s failed two lie detector tests, he said he’s willing to testify against you on the witness stand when his case goes to trial?” I ask her. Ruby gives me a puzzled look, then nods in understanding.
“Detective Ahearn’s been talking to you,” she says. I nod.
“He’s also never going to have the opportunity to grow and learn from his mistakes if he doesn’t face real consequences,” my mother points out.
“Wow,” Ruby says admiringly. “You’re good.”
“The best.” I pat my mother’s arm.
“All right. I’ll talk to the administration about it. There’s no reason he should get away with cheating on a test, and what he did to me was wrong. I have the right to stick up for myself.” Ruby sounds a little doubtful.
“Once more with feeling,” my mother instructs her.
“I have the right to stick up for myself!” Ruby says loudly. My mother nods. “Spoken like a Saul woman,” she says with satisfaction.
EPILOGUE
RUBY
The championship game for the Stanley Cup is tomorrow.
No big deal.
It’s only Paxton’s chance to redeem himself in front of the whole world—or to go down in flames. His whole family has flown out to watch him play—again.
He’s been absolutely killing himself training up until now. I believe he’s in the best shape he’s ever been.
I’m not going to say a word to him about it, though. I’m afraid of jinxing things.
Instead, since he’s just arrived back at his apartment to hang out with me for a couple of hours, I’m going to give him something to take his mind off things.
“Come in here,” I call out to him from the bedroom. I do my best to imitate Marlon Brando in The Godfather. “‘I have an offer you can’t refuse.’ Did I get that quote right?”
“Not in the slightest,” he yells back at me. “Your gangster game is weak, babe.” He walks in the door and looks me up and down. He lets out a long, low whistle of appreciation.
“Wow. Gangster game, weak. Seduction game, strong.”
I’m wearing the jersey with his number on it, which reaches almost to my knees... and nothing else. No makeup, no lingerie. It’s just me in here, standing next to his big four-poster bed, lit up with desire at the sight of him. He’s never been into sexy lingerie or sexy costumes, but something about the sight of me in his jersey sends him over the top.
The look in his eyes, the way he wants me, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“You know what that does to me,” he protests. “It renders me helpless.”
