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He gave her a quick kiss, startling her. It was as if he was determined to prevent a knee-jerk rejection. “I’m going to check in with you again soon.”
With those words, Sal turned and was out the door as quickly as he had come.
* * *
Cole had just gotten off a conference call at work when his assistant put through a call from Steve Fryer, an acquaintance from his days on the ice.
Cole looked at the papers strewn across his desk. He was already pressed for time, his morning occupied with meetings, but Steve had no way of knowing that.
Cole also itched to be with Marisa. He hadn’t seen her since the fund-raiser a few days ago. He’d had a busy schedule with a couple of work emergencies, and today was looking no better.
“Cole, I’ve got good news,” Steve announced. “The coach for the Madison Rockets has decided to take the job in Canada after all because the sports advertising agency there agreed to meet his contract terms.” Pause. “We’d like to offer you the coaching position.”
Cole leaned back in his chair, his world coming to a screeching halt. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting months for. The Rockets were one of the best minor league teams in the American Hockey League. The job would be a good launching pad for an NHL coaching position. Rather than starting as an assistant coach in the NHL, he could prove himself as the head of his own team.
“Great news, Steve. I think the Rockets made the right decision.”
Steve laughed.
“I’ll get back to you,” Cole said, eyeing the jumble of papers on his desk. “As you
can imagine, there are things to sort out at this end.” He expected Steve would assume he needed to contact his agent—or former agent, to be more accurate—to begin the process of negotiating a suitable employment contract.
Only Cole knew his complications were bigger. He needed to disentangle himself from Serenghetti Construction, for one. He thought again of the offer to purchase the company—it was now or never. And then there was his relationship with Marisa...
“Take your time,” Steve responded. “We’ll talk next week.”
“You’ll be hearing from me.” Cole gave the assurance before ending the call, his mind buzzing.
The wheels were moving in the direction he wanted, but in the past year he’d become more encumbered than ever in Welsdale. Marisa was chief among those ties...
He’d suggest she move to Madison with him.
A weight lifted as his mind sped up. There would be plenty of teaching jobs there for her. If she had the potential to advance at Pershing, then she certainly had the qualifications to be an attractive hire at other schools. She might even decide that moving someplace else was the better bet—she hadn’t yet gotten a promotion at Pershing, and one might never materialize. Another school might start her out in administration from the beginning.
He could make this situation work—for the both of them. He would make it work.
But first he needed to tackle a dicier situation. It was time to tell Serg about the offer to buy Serenghetti Construction.
Cole picked up his jacket off the back of the chair and told the receptionist he’d be out and reachable on his cell. After texting his mother, he made the quick drive over to Casa Serenghetti, where he figured he’d find Serg in one of two moods: grumpy or grumpier.
When he stepped inside the house, he greeted his mother with a peck on the cheek and then followed her to the oversize family room, where his father was ensconced in a club chair.
Cole sat in a leather chair and braced his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them. Camilla took a seat on the sofa, and there was small talk about the weather and how Serg was feeling. But Cole could tell his father was suspicious about this unexpected visit. Serg regarded him from under his customary lowered brows.
Cole took the bull by the horns. “Someone’s offered to buy the company.”
“Offered?” Serg shot back in his rumbling voice. “Like someone came banging on your door? Or you solicited a buyer?”
“Does it matter? It’s a good offer from a bigger outfit with operations in the Northeast.” Cole knew they couldn’t expect better.
Serg grumbled, his eyes piercing. “I’m going to have another stroke.” Then he bent his head and grimaced.
Camilla shot to her feet. “Madonna. Serg! Where does it hurt?”
But Cole had a better question. “Right now?”
Serg cracked one eye open. “Does it matter when? You’ve killed me, either way.”
