"Oh-you're talking about wine." I knew a little about French wines, but truth be told I wasn't even legal to drink in the States. Nobody would ask for I.D. at a private function.

"Yes. I know wine, and I think a sophisticated gentleman like yourself would appreciate the Sassicaia." Her smile was perfect. Now I could tell she was interested.

I exchanged a look with the bartender, and he poured the wine for both of us.

"Cheers," she said. "To new friends."

"I'm James Frechette, captain of the Blackhawks."

"Very nice to meet you, James. I'm Astrid Dahl."

We chatted, and it turned out that she was actually working tonight. She represented a wine importing company. That wasn't surprising because there were hardly ever attractive single women at this kind of exclusive event. Any hot women would be trophy wives.

Astrid gave me her number, and then I had to get back to mingling because it was my job.

I joined my teammates, and Wheels was impressed. "Freeze, you've got all the moves."

Baller laughed. "Yeah, right. Google 'smooth operator' and his photo will pop up first. You gonna call her?"

"I guess."

Why shouldn't I? She was exactly the kind of girl I'd always figured I'd go out with once I got to the NHL. It was time I made that goal come true.

I was finally getting into the swing of my producer job. Sure, I screwed up a lot at the beginning, but the beauty of the job was how temporary everything was. You made a mistake, but the next day's show was always looming-a fresh slate where you could prove yourself all over again or mess up. But the screw-ups were slowly dwindling.

Ruby had been extremely generous with her contact list, so I was far better connected than I should have been. She claimed she had trained me so I wouldn't call her daily during her maternity leave, but I knew it was because she was a true professional and a great mentor. Anyway, there was a lot more responsibility and challenge, and I was extremely happy-at work.

My personal life was a total void, in complete contrast to April's popularity. I had some weak moments when I thought about calling Phil to hang out, but I was sure he was already dating other people. I wanted to be fair to Phil, so I had broken up with him, but I still had strong feelings for him that would take time to fade.

Luckily, I went to bed so early that my social pariah status wasn't really a problem. And now that the Canucks season had started, things were really heating up at the station. There were more guests, more exciting topics, and more listener involvement. Most interviews were by phone, but a few people came to the station, and I was going to get to meet a few of the players that I'd watched for years.

One Thursday morning, Gloria, the perky new receptionist, buzzed me.

"Oh, Kelly, the Canucks prospects are here." They hadn't made all the cuts yet, so we were talking to some new players who might stick.

"Okay, thanks, Glo." Gloria was adorable and a way nicer receptionist than I had been. She brought homemade cookies, listened to everyone's problems, and knew everyone from couriers to sponsors by name. She was also married with twin daughters, so nobody hit on her. At least Cheryl had managed to change Don Johnson's stupid hiring policy. Friendly topped hot.

I walked out and saw two guys sitting with an air of slight awkwardness in the lobby. They were dressed in suits. Suits? They did know this was radio, right?

I greeted them. "Hi, I'm Kelly Tanaka. I'm the producer for the morning show."

"Noah Masterson," said the smaller one. He was a second-round draft pick with good skills, but not too much size.

"I'm Peter Haines." He was a defenceman, who had a pretty good chance to make the team. He was big, like 6'5", and had a decent skill set. He put up really good numbers in the AHL last season. Turned out he was good-looking as well. He had thick blond hair, blue eyes, and a dazzling smile. Not that it mattered, but it was always nice for those fans who cared about that kind of thing.

Which reminded me that we were being encouraged to draw traffic to the website. "Hey, since you guys are here and all dressed up, I'll take photos for the station website."

I got them to pose in the lobby, beside the C2C Sports Radio sign.

Noah looked a little self-conscious, but Peter was smooth as silk.

"Make sure you're getting my best side," he warned me with a smile. His tan made his shiny white teeth pop.

"I'm not sure he has a bad one," murmured Gloria, who was watching over my shoulder. I scrolled through the photos, and she was right-they all looked good.

"Okay, let's go to the boardroom, and I'll do quick run-through of the questions that Randy and Andy will be asking you." Everything would be pretty straightforward, but it would be nice to get something interesting and new from them. I liked to find out about hobbies and any connections they had to the Vancouver area. It turned out that Noah, like half of the NHL, played guitar. Peter denied having any hobbies.

"I'm hockey all day long." He paused. "Nights are a different matter."

Was he flirting with me? I was no longer even able to tell.

The interview went well. Peter came out of the studio and paused at the control room door, motioning to me through the glass.

I went out into the hallway. "What's up?"

"I'm from Wisconsin," he told me.

"Congratulations," I replied.

"It's my first time in Vancouver."

"Again, congrats. Look, I have to get back to work here, so maybe we can do this idle chat thing another time."

"Great, how about tonight? Dinner? And maybe you could show me around Vancouver. I bet you grew up here."

I was about to say no, when I figured-why the hell not? I had no social life, and he was cute. Plus, he played hockey.

"Sure," I said. "But I have to get to bed early."

"That's fine with me," he said with a laugh.

Clearly the dating game had not made me a smoother dater.

I went for a run when I got home, then showered and got ready for my early dinner date.

April came home and started calling for me when she walked in the door.

"Oh my God. I've been dying to talk to you. I almost woke you up last night, but I knew you had to get up at an ungodly hour. Guess what happened?"

"Tell me."

"I got back together with Ben!"

"What, really?" Was that supposed to be a big deal? Those two were more off and on than a light switch.

April sighed. "I know what you're thinking. But last time we split, Ben put his foot down. He told me that he really cared for me but it was too difficult to keep getting back and splitting up. He said if I came back again, I needed to be ready to commit to him."

She threw her hands up. "I never thought that would happen, but last night I was out on a date with this guy I met at work, a screenwriter. He was trying to impress me so we went to Market at Shangri-La for dinner, and as we sat down, I saw Ben. He wasn't with a date but with a bunch of his friends in the private dining room. As my date was droning on, I could see Ben laughing and having fun. I realized that I would rather be with him than any more random dates. I remembered how great we were together and how much... I cared too. It was like a light switch turning on in my head, and I felt, well, completely sure."

For once, April was not glib and sarcastic, and she stumbled over the words around her emotions. Lucky Ben; I knew this meant she really did love him, even if she would never admit how much. She was a big believer in keeping men guessing.

"So what did you do?"

"I told my date that my ex-boyfriend was here, and he'd better leave since Ben was homicidally jealous."

"No way. The guy was afraid of Ben?" Ben was tall and had a swimmer's physique, but he was so sweet and gentle.

"I told him that Ben was Chinese mafia and trained in the art of Bento."

"April, Bento is a Japanese lunch box. I think you meant Kendo."

"Oh, the writer was from some white bread place, he had no clue. He took off so fast he almost forgot his raincoat. Then I went and gave Ben a big hug and a kiss, and I joined him and his buddies for dinner. We had an amazing evening, and I'm seeing him again tonight."

She eyed me. "Wait, you're dressed up. Are you actually going out somewhere?"

"I have a date."

"Wow, that's great. It's about time. Phil's already out there, you know."

"I didn't, but it's not surprising." In a normal social situation, he got hit on more than a whack-a-mole.

"So, who's the lucky guy?"

"He's a Canuck's prospect."

"A hockey player? Well, you do have a type. Is he a better player than Jimmy?"

I shook my head. Nobody was better than Jimmy. I started to wonder if this was a mistake. Well, one date was no big deal, was it?

Turned out it could be.

April and Ben were sitting on the living room couch when I walked in. The beauty of their no-sex policy meant that I never had to worry about interrupting anything intimate. They were holding hands and looking blissful.

"You're home early. How was your date?" April asked.

I raised one hand. "I hereby vow never to date again-ever. So boring. He talked about hockey the whole time."

April laughed merrily. "Now you know how I feel. But isn't that right up your alley?"

"Well, it wasn't like we were discussing hockey strategy or anything. It was more like he was telling me all the great hockey things he'd done. Whoopee." I spun my forefinger. After Jimmy, Peter's accomplishments weren't that impressive. I'd already been there, done that, and gotten the t-shirt.

Ben gave me a sympathetic tilt of the head. "You're probably not ready to date yet. You shouldn't waste time with losers."

"Too true." Was he thinking how much better Phil was than this bozo? This was my punishment for turning down two great guys.

30.

Coach Kelly

I was slowly becoming a better hockey coach. My half of the team was certainly having fun at practice. The day that Constable Reyes came with his radar gun was the best. He was an off-duty RCMP officer and a distant relative of Kimmy Reyes, the smallest player on the team. Constable Reyes was not that tall either, but he looked strong and commanding, and all the kids wanted to impress him. We combined the two halves of the team since everyone wanted their shot velocity measured. Between turns, I worked hard with my group to show them how to improve.

Afterwards, I whistled them together.

"Hey guys, we have something for you. From Mr. Kyrlenko." That was Tommy's dad, and he beamed. I produced a large vinyl floor tile and everyone looked stunned. "This is your mini-rink," I told them. "You can take this home and practice your new shooting techniques without wrecking the floor at home. And you can use it outside. The main thing is to have the same smooth surface as the ice so you can practice the motions you learnt today. No pucks though, you'll wreck the house. Use whiffle balls, tennis balls, even wadded-up paper balls-the main thing is to practice the motion. And tape your sticks beforehand and then again before games."

Mr. Kyrlenko handed out a tile to each player. They cradled them like gold bars.

"Thank you so much," I told him.

"Happy to help," he assured me. His job was in floor installation, and this project was something Henrietta and I had dreamed up. The tile itself wasn't important, as much as feeling special and having a visual reminder to practice. Tommy Krylenko was so proud that his dad played such an important role. The two of them strutted off to the dressing room together.

"Excuse me, Coach Kelly."

I turned and saw Layla. She was the best female player on our team and part of Mark's group.

"Hey, Layla. What's up?"