Sean grabbed his blue blazer off a hook in his locker and shoved his arms inside. The ends of his just-washed hair wet the collar of his white dress shirt. He’d scored two of the four points put up on the board tonight and secured his worth on the team.

The usual hazing period seemed to be over, although some of the guys still resented the trade. Sean understood that. During the season, players spent more time with their team than anybody else. They were on the road half the season, and the other half was spent working out at the team’s clubhouse inside the arena, watching game tapes and practicing for the show. Inevitably, the guys got close. Sometimes closer than their own families, which explained the high divorce rate.

Sean shoved his feet into his calfskin loafers and reached inside the open locker for his wallet. He’d played for several different NHL franchises. He had good friends in all of them, even though it might take him a bit longer to get as close to his teammates as some of the other guys. He wouldn’t say they were family. At least not as he understood family.

He stuck his wallet in the back pocket of his khaki trousers and looked across the locker room filled with hockey players. Some half dressed, others completely naked. He’d been around naked guys since he’d played peewee and hardly noticed anymore. A few of the guys sat on a bench, watching an iPad and betting on college hockey.

Left defender Brody Comeau groaned as he tossed his towel on the bench and rolled his left shoulder.

“Still feeling the Russell hit?” Sean asked.

“I hate that guy.” Brody was built like a pylon and had a long scar on his right cheek. Since Brody was thirty-five, Sean imagined it was harder for him to shake off the pain.

“He’s probably feeling a hell of a lot worse after Kevin put him in the third row.”

Brody chuckled. “How’s your hand?”

Sean flexed his fingers and made a fist. His middle finger felt a bit stiff. “Fine.”

“Next time, you let someone else drop the gloves.” Brody reached in his locker and pulled out a pair of boxers. “KO or Letestu or me. One of us will be your shadow. You break your hand and you’re fucked.” He stepped inside his underwear and pulled it up. “That means we’re all fucked.” He looked up. “Got it?”

There had been a time when Sean might have taken offense to another player telling him what to do like he was back in the shinnies. When he’d walked around with a chip on his shoulder the size of a log. When he’d sought attention by glove rubbing his points in everyone’s face. When he’d hotdogged to shove the facts home.

“Got it.” He hadn’t been that guy for a few years now. Not since he’d realized that his talent was overshadowed by his need for attention. He’d also realized that he was more like his mother than he’d ever let himself think was possible. She sought attention through her hypochondria, he through his ability to hit a puck between the pipes. He’d had a girlfriend to thank for the revelation. “You’re an attention whore,” she’d told him. She hadn’t meant it as a compliment or to be helpful. She’d yelled it as she’d kicked his Maybach. He’d broken up with her for denting his car door, but she’d been right. Sure, he might ride his stick when he scored a hat trick, but he let his talent speak for him these days.

Again Brody chuckled. “Decent muck-up though.” Ever since he’d returned from Sandspit and hit the road with the team, things were better. No more prank calls to his room at two a.m. or smashed crackers between his sheets. The roster shakeup was now cohesive, and he was getting to know each player and their style and quirks.

“Good game, Knox,” Coach Kowalsky said as he passed, even going so far as to pat Sean on the shoulder.

“Thanks.” One thing he’d learned about John, the man didn’t blow unwarranted sunshine up anyone’s ass. A “good game” from him was like excessive praise from anyone else. Despite himself, Sean almost smiled, and retucked his white dress shirt into his trousers. He didn’t want to like the guy. John was an asshole, but since his return, he found himself playing smarter. Maybe to prove to the coach and to anyone else that Sean Knox was a team player. He wasn’t out for just himself. If they thought otherwise, they were wrong. If they mistook him for a pussy, they were wrong about that, too.

There was only one potential problem with his newfound cohesion. A tall blond problem with the last name Kowalsky. As far as he could tell, her life was one big drama after another, and he’d managed to get himself tangled up in it.

When he’d first returned from Sandspit, he’d tried to get ahold of her in an effort to avoid adding even more drama when she inevitably learned he played for the Chinooks. He couldn’t exactly ask her dad for her phone number. He’d asked Jimmy, but the number he’d been given went straight to voice mail. He’d left her a message and e-mailed his number via her business Web site. She hadn’t contacted him, and he figured she didn’t want to see him again. That was her choice, and after their picture appeared on the cover of the Enquirer, he was more than fine with that, too. He didn’t want the part of “mystery man” in her never-ending drama.

“Knoxy.” Team captain Stephen “Stony” Davis hung one wrist over Sean’s shoulder. “Some of the guys are meeting at Quinn’s Pub. You should come.”

Stony had gotten his nickname because he hit like he had stones in his gloves. Sean could attest to the accuracy of the nickname and was secretly relieved that he wouldn’t be on the receiving end of Stony’s right hook this season. “Where’s Quinn’s Pub?” He’d been in Seattle only three months, and half of that had been spent on the road. One of these days soon, he’d have to figure out his way around the city.

“Tenth and Pike.”

Sean didn’t live far from the Key Arena. He had a fair idea of the city’s layout and had a navigation system in his Land Rover. “Sounds good.” He grabbed his duffel and moved with Stony through the locker room and lounge and out into the tunnel.

“Quinn’s has some cheese fries I’m dying to try.”

Sean looked across his shoulder at his teammate. “Are cheese fries on Trina’s meal plan?” he asked, referring to the team’s nutritionist.

“Not on your plan,” Stony said through a laugh. “I’m a defender. I can bulk up now and again.”

Probably not on cheese fries. They talked about several bad calls and questioned the referee’s eyesight. “Chucky’s toe wasn’t anywhere near the crease,” Sean said as he turned left toward the outside doors. “Even a blind man could have seen that.”

Near the doorway, a woman separated herself from the wall and turned toward him. She wore a gray turtleneck beneath a Chinooks jersey. Gray jeans so tight they looked shrink-wrapped around her long legs, and she was just as gorgeous as he recalled. As one, a surprising mix of lust and dread rolled through him, twisting and fighting and landing in his gut like a ball of hot lead. He’d figured they’d see each other sooner or later, but after the Enquirer photo splashed around the world, he would have preferred later rather than sooner.

“Hey there, Lexie,” Stony called out to her.

Her deep blue eyes watched Sean approach before she turned her attention to the team captain. “Hey there, Stephen.”

Stony opened up his big arms and she stepped inside. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” He pulled back and looked down into her face. “At least not in person. I’ve seen a lot of you on the TV.”

Her ponytail brushed the back of her Chinooks jersey as she shook her head. “Unfortunately, it seems like the entire planet has seen a lot of me on TV.”

“Your dad didn’t like those shorts you wore on that show.”

“I don’t want to talk about that show.” Over Stony’s shoulder, her icy gaze met Sean’s.

“No one liked that guy, anyway. Paul’s the only one who bet on you making it to the altar.”

She took a scandalized breath and stepped out of Stony’s embrace. “You all were betting on my wedding?” Her lips turned upside down in an unconvincing frown. “I’m not surprised.”

The last time Sean had seen her, she’d been wrapped up in a white bedsheet, her blond hair a mess and one leg hanging off the bed. All warm and sensual, like she was about to pass out after great sex. Her blue gaze warm and satisfied.

Stony waved a hand in his direction. “Have you met our newest right wing, Sean Knox?” She turned her face toward him, her eyes as cold and hard as sapphires. So different from the night she’d played rodeo queen.

“No. I’ve never met Mr. Knox,” she said, and he wondered if Stony heard the slight emphasis on his last name. “I’ve heard my father talk of him, though.”

Yeah. John had called him a nancy-pants and probably worse. He held out his hand, waiting for her next move.

“Sean, this is John’s oldest daughter, Lexie Kowalsky.”

A big smile split her full lips and her white teeth dazzled like a Crest commercial. He waited to see if she’d expose their connection or not.

“We’re all family.” She took a step forward and made a point of giving him a big hug. He automatically closed his arms around her. She smelled different this time, too. Like flowery soap and earthy shampoo. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Knox,” she said, her warm breath brushing his ear.

She felt the same, though. Like soft, sweet woman, and his body reacted. “Thank you.”

Beneath his blazer, her hand slid across his chest, and for one insane second he wondered if she was going to unbutton his shirt like she had a week ago. For one insane second, he wondered if he should let her, right there in the concrete tunnel of the Key Arena. Instead of undressing him, she slipped something in the pocket of his dress shirt. She gave his chest a pat for good measure before she stepped away, taking with her the scent of her skin and feel of her body. A week ago, he would have pulled her right back against his chest. A week ago, they’d been strangers in a strange environment, under strange circumstances.

“You might have seen Lexie on TV,” Stony said, as if he hadn’t noticed the exchange or the slight pull of Lexie’s brow.

“Maybe a time or two.” Although he knew her body intimately, they were still strangers.

“I said I don’t want to talk about that.” She folded her arms across her jersey.

Kevin Olsen rounded the corner and laughed when he saw Lexie. “There’s our little runaway bride!” His voice boomed through the tunnel.

“Shhhh.” She tried and failed not to smile. “Stop shouting, and before you get started, I don’t want to talk about Gettin’ Hitched.”

“I don’t blame you.” Brody gave her a quick hug and kept one big hand on her shoulder as he bent forward to look into her eyes. “No one liked that Pete guy. Paul’s the only one who bet on you making it all the way to the altar.”

“That’s what I heard. You boys will bet on anything.”

“Next time, go on American Ninja Warrior. You’d kick butt on that one.” He straightened. “Win yourself some cash instead of a wuss.”

Her arms fell to her sides. “Tell the guys to get a new hobby because I’m not signing up for any more television shows or interviews. No more magazine articles.” Her brows lowered and she looked at Sean out of the corners of her eyes. “Or pictures in a gossip paper for the world to talk about.”

He’d have to be deaf not to have heard the widespread speculation regarding that photo; everything from she’d run off with a lover to she’d been kidnapped. The corner of his mouth twisted up. Kidnapped. Yeah, fucking right. That was funny given that she’d dived headfirst into the Sea Hopper.

“Me and Chucky talked about it,” Kevin said as he dramatically slammed one meaty fist into an equally meaty palm. “You just give us the word, and we’ll find that guy and shove a stick up his ass.”

Sean turned his attention to the two big men next to him. There was nothing funny about the fire in his teammates’ eyes. They were actually serious, and he asked, although he was afraid he already knew, “What guy?”

“The guy in that photo. The one who’d coerced Lexie.”

Now it was his turn to look at her from the corners of his eyes. “Coerced?”

Lexie raised a hand and covered the top half of her face. “I don’t want to talk about that, either.”

“Jesus, KO. You’re an insensitive jerk.” Once again Stony wrapped his protective arms around Lexie. “She’s been through enough without you bringing up that jackass who forced himself on her.”

Jackass? Forced? What the hell?

“Sorry, Lexie. I just want you to know that I’m right here. If you ever see that guy again, promise you’ll call me. I have a hockey stick with his name on it.”

Sean looked at her, waiting for her to correct his teammates. To clear things up and set the record straight.

Instead, a slight smile curved her pink lips. “I promise.” She patted Stony on the shoulder and stepped away. “But I doubt I’ll be seeing much of Mr. Brown.” She turned to Sean. “Meeting you was . . . interesting. I have a strange feeling we’ve met before.”

He looked into her blue eyes and the crease across her smooth forehead as if she was deep in thought, trying to solve a mystery. Was she going to point an accusing finger at him now that KO was dying to shove an Easton up his ass, or was she playing a game? “I have one of those faces.” The only game he liked to play was played on ice.

“That must be it.” She gave another dazzling smile, and he had his answer. She was playing with him, and he didn’t like it. “See you guys around,” she said as she turned on her heels and moved toward the door. As the others watched her walk away, Sean dug into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He glanced at the address and the code to a secure elevator written in blue. The word “tonight” was underlined. By the chill in her eyes, he doubted she wanted to scream in ecstasy and call him a cement head again.

“She’s such a sweetheart,” Stony said as she disappeared out the door.

That was not the first word Sean would have used to describe Lexie. He crumpled the note in his fist and shoved it into the pocket of his blazer. “I’m going to have to take a rain check on those cheese fries.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sean entered the elevator of a swanky apartment building in Belltown. His anger shot up incrementally with the rise of each floor. He hadn’t coerced or forced himself on Lexie. He’d never coerced or forced himself on anyone. Ever. He’d never even thought about it. If she said no, then she meant no. He had plenty of offers of yes. Women threw themselves at him, or in Lexie’s case, fell at his feet.

She wanted to meet and he wanted to know her plans. No games. No manipulations. No implied innocence on her part while condemning him with her silence and pouty lips.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped into an open space constructed of walnut floors and glass, stone, and overstuffed purple furniture with big fuzzy pillows. The far wall consisted of a window so big and clear it appeared as if he could just step from the white carpets and into the lights of the Seattle skyline.

“Hello, Sean.” She stood in the middle of the room, the city behind her, lighting her up as if she’d walked in from the skyline. She’d removed her team jersey and held some sort of creature in her arms. It might be a dog, but he wasn’t certain. The only thing he could tell for sure was that it wore something pink and fluffy. “Your name is Sean, right?”

“Right.” She still had on those tight gray jeans he’d noticed earlier, and her feet were bare. Unlike the last time he’d seen her, her toes were painted red instead of pink. “The kidnapping, rapist jackass.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic?” He put a hand on the front of his jacket. “You’re crazy as a bunny boiler.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She laughed and turned toward the kitchen. “Relax. I would never boil a bunny, and I never said you were a rapist.”

“If you tell people you were coerced and forced against your will, that’s rape.”

“I never told anyone that.” On closer inspection, the thing in her arms was indeed a dog. A hairless dog, and she set it on the floor by her feet. “I guess they just assumed it from that picture.” A black tongue snaked out and licked the pink tutu around its naked body.

“Do you know who took the photo?” If he hadn’t been preoccupied, he would have noticed the flash.

“Not a clue.” She opened a stainless-steel refrigerator and pulled out two beers. “I never knew it was you, the real you, in the photo until a few hours ago.” The door shut behind her and she looked downward. “Watch out, Yum Yum precious baby.”

Yum Yum precious baby? He might have taken a moment to swallow back some vomit if he wasn’t so pissed. “Then who made up that coercion bullshit?”

“Not me!” She shrugged one shoulder and reached into a drawer for a bottle opener. “People just filled in the blanks.” She popped the tops and handed him a beer without asking if he needed one. “I didn’t correct them.”

Obviously.

“Kind of like when I thought your last name was Brown and you didn’t correct me.” She clinked her bottleneck against his. “Cheers.”

“I’m not feeling the cheer.”

She chuckled and raised the beer to her lips.

“And I’m not laughing.”

“No?” Her deep blue eyes watched him over the brown bottle as she drank. She lowered the Molson and bent down to pick up her ugly dog. “But I bet you had a real good laugh in Sandspit when I thought you were a super secret spy like Perry.”

From Phineas and Ferb? “I never told you I was a spy.”

“I never told anyone to shove a hockey stick up your ass, either.” She looked down at her dog and said, “I never would have slept with you if I’d known you’re a hockey player.”

“But sleeping with Perry the spy is okay with you?” Were they really talking about a cartoon platypus? She nodded as she took a drink, and it was his turn to laugh. “I was there that night. You can’t lie to me or yourself. When you had your legs around my waist, you wouldn’t have cared if I was a serial killer.”

She lowered the bottle and said, “I never lied to you.”

“I didn’t lie to you, either.”

“Maybe not outright.” She shrugged one shoulder and looked down at her dog. “A lie by omission is still a lie.”

“Exactly.”

With her dog cradled against her big breasts, she walked from the kitchen. “You knew who I was the moment we met. I didn’t keep it a secret.”

“Princess, it was obvious the moment Jimmy shoved you into his seaplane.” He pointed his bottle at her. “No way you could keep that a secret.”

“KO is right about you. You are a jackass.”

“Then why am I here?” He took a long drink, irritated with people calling him a jackass. Irritated by his inability to control his gaze from wandering from the swing of her ponytail, down her back, to the curve of her waist and nice round butt. Irritated by the pure lust pouring through his stomach and sloshing around in the bottom of his gut. Mostly, irritated by the chaos she created below his waist, specifically, and his life in general. “If you want to pick up where we left off in Sandspit, we need to get busy. I have a four a.m. flight to Arizona,” he said, not bothering to keep the irritation from his voice.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It wasn’t that memorable.”

He could remind her that he’d made her scream from pleasure, but he wasn’t that big a jackass. Instead he smiled and walked across the room. “Who’s lying now, sweetheart?” He took a seat on a purple velvet sofa, cluttered with fussy pillows.

She set her beer on a glass coffee table, sat down, then pulled one bare foot beneath her thigh. Her fingers ran through a patch of long hair on her dog’s head, her red cheeks the only indication she’d heard him. “Why didn’t you tell me you play for the Chinooks?”

If she wanted to change the subject away from that night, fine with him. “It never came up.”

She finally looked up at him. “That’s a deke, not an answer, but you’re good at it.” Her ugly dog jumped up on the top of the couch and shook out its tutu. “Much better at it than your wrister.”

He was good at both and chose to ignore her comment. “I didn’t realize that you had no idea I played for the Chinooks until we were somewhere over Vancouver.” The dog stretched out on its belly with its furry paws in front. The thing had black beady eyes that stared at him through strands of white and black hair falling from the wild topknot on its head.

“That was the first hour.”

The little dog scooted toward him. “At the time, I thought it was probably best if your father never found out I’d ripped your wedding dress off of you. Even if it was at your request.” That was half the truth. He took a drink, then set the bottle on the coffee table.

“Believe me, that’s something I never want Dad to find out about, either. You still should have told me.”

He looked at the dog as it inched toward him. Its big furry ears and Flock of Seagulls hair, combined with wrinkly skin and a sharp pointed nose, made probably the ugliest dog he’d ever seen. Certainly the most bizarre.

“You could have mentioned it the next morning at the Waffle Hut or later at your mother’s when she was dying to call Wendy.” A frown wrinkled her brow. “Or when I brought you lunch in your weight room and stuck around to clear my head of the description of your mother’s bowels. Or when I told you that my dad thinks you’re a nancy-pants.”

“Which time?”

“Any of those times.” Another wrinkle creased her forehead as if she couldn’t recall talking about it more than once. “Or when you had your hand down my shirt.”

“I wasn’t thinking about it when I had my hand down your shirt.” He was focused on the soft weight of her breast in his palm.

“You could have mentioned it before you snuck out of the hotel room in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t sneak. I thought I’d see you on the Sea Hopper, later that morning.” He glanced at her shifty-eyed dog, then back at her. “It shouldn’t have even gotten to that point, but the whole situation just kept snowballing until it got out of control. You have experience with something snowballing out of control.”

“You could have contacted me when you returned home.”

“I tried. Your voice mail box was full.” He pointed to the dog. “Does that thing bite?”

“She’s not a thing, and no. She doesn’t bite.” She paused. “At least not yet.”

He glanced at Lexie. “What is it?”

“Yum Yum isn’t an ‘it’ either. She’s a Chinese crested.” Lexie brushed her fingers through the long hair on her tail. “Please watch what you say in front of her. She’s very sensitive, and her feelings are easily crushed.”

“What the fuck?”

“And no cursing. She doesn’t like it.”

“Does she have a fucking swear jar?”

“No, but that’s a good idea. You and Dad can help contribute to her chew-toy fund.”

“Jes—sus.”

A big frown wrinkled her brow again. “Harsh voices upset her.”

“But that pink thing you make her wear isn’t upsetting?”

“It’s from my Woo-Hoo Tutu line of dog couture. Hot pink makes her feel better when she’s sad.”

He wasn’t about to ask how she knew her dog was sad. Mostly because he didn’t give a shit, and because he was already sorry he’d asked about the stupid tutu. “It’s getting late.” Was he really having a conversation about a dog’s sad feelings? “Let’s cut through the bullshit. Why did you stuff a note in my pocket?”

“We need to talk about the picture.”

There was only one picture she could be referencing. “What about it?”

“It’s ruined my life.”

“I doubt your life is ruined.” What a drama queen. “And if it is, you ruined it the day you ran from your wedding.”

She shook her head, and her little dog inched closer. “Before the picture came out, I’d managed to repair my reputation and salvage my business. Now it’s all ruined again because of you.”

“Me?” The dog whipped out her thin black tongue and licked her pointed muzzle. “I wasn’t the only one standing outside that motel.”

“Now you have to fix it.”

Sean had never responded well to demands. He kept his eyes on the dog and said, “I don’t have to fix anything. I didn’t leak that photo to the press.” He could swear the thing was licking her chops in anticipation of snacking on his jugular. He wasn’t afraid. He could take her out, but she was unnerving.

“I have a proposition that is mutually beneficial to us both and will fix everything.”

He couldn’t imagine anything that would benefit both of them. Not unless she changed her mind and wanted to get naked. He pulled his gaze from her dog and gave her his attention. “What is that, princess?”

“You have to convince everyone that you are madly in love with me.”

Nope, he wouldn’t have imagined that. Her eyes looked into his, steady and serious, and he started to laugh.

“It’s the only way that I get my reputation back and you don’t get a stick up your ass.”

His laughter turned into a deep chuckle.

Her brows lowered and she got all squinty-eyed like her mutt. She might have looked unattractive if she wasn’t so damn pretty. “I’m serious.”

“I can see that.” He rubbed the lower half of his face and tried to wipe away his smile. “How long did it take you to think up this ridiculous scheme?”

“It’s not ridiculous.” She sat back against the couch and folded her arms across her breasts.

“That’s what I thought. You’ve given it the same scrutiny you did when you agreed to marry a man you didn’t know.” He leaned forward and grabbed his beer. “Even less than you did when you signed on to the show that fucked up your life.”

“It’s going to solve our problems.”

“I don’t have a problem.” He pointed the bottle to himself, then took a drink. He wasn’t worried about anyone on the hockey team literally shoving a stick or anything else up his ass. He took a few swallows and lowered the beer. He was more worried about a figurative stick. The one that could skewer any progress he’d made with the Chinooks and especially John Kowalsky. Maybe he and Lexie could come up with something. Something about them having met and being friendly. Nothing about being forced or coerced into anything. Maybe he could work it and come out looking like a hero.

“How’s your mama doing?”

“Why?” The hairless dog caught his attention as she crept even closer.

“Just wondering.”

Sean doubted that as he watched the mutt belly-crawl, tutu and all, close enough to put her pointed nose next to his shoulder on the couch.

“Some elderly people flock to Florida or Arizona this time of year. It’s better for their health.”

Geraldine was exactly where he needed her to stay. “My mother’s health is just fine.” In fact, the last time he’d spoken to her, she’d made a miraculous recovery. He figured he had another six months before she was facing certain death again. Six glorious—chaos-free—months that he needed to focus on the Stanley Cup finals.

“Sandspit can’t be good for a woman in your mother’s delicate condition.” She sucked air between her teeth as if in pain. “Her heart palpitations are worrisome. Not to mention her skin lesions.”

“My mother would never move someplace where she doesn’t have friends or family to complain to. She could never be a little fish in a big pond. It’s just not in her.” She didn’t have much family left, just a cousin or two in Saskatoon. She did seem to have a few friends left in Sandspit—for now. “She doesn’t know anyone in Florida or Arizona.”

“She knows someone in Seattle, though. Admittedly, Seattle isn’t as warm as Sun City, but it has great hospitals and access to wonderful health care, too. I’m sure she would love a long visit with her only child.”

Sean’s gaze met hers. Her eyes were no longer squinty from anger, but filled with the triumph of a poker player who’d just shown a royal flush. He’d been about to give some thought to her plan. Rework it a little. Negotiate terms so that he’d come away looking like he kept her safe from the media horde. There had been no need to drop the gloves.

“She already thinks we’re soul mates.” She reached for her beer and smiled. “Thanks to you.”

“How long?”

“Have we been soul mates?” She shrugged. “Since before I signed on with Gettin’ Hitched.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant.

Lexie took a drink, then looked up at the ceiling as if she was giving it some thought. As if she didn’t have it already worked out in her pretty little head. “We were star-crossed lovers. Fate was against us. My father is the Chinooks coach and you played for the Penguins. We didn’t believe it would work out and we didn’t have enough faith in our love.” She returned her gaze to his and smiled. “I was so heartbroken when we broke up, I acted too impulsively. You didn’t know I’d signed on to do Gettin’ Hitched, and I didn’t know you accepted the trade to Seattle so you could be near me.”

That was so sappy and really did make him look like a nancy-pants. “Let me guess, I got ahold of you before you could walk down the aisle and declared my undying love.”

Her grin got bigger. “Isn’t it romantic?”

The little dog lifted her head and placed her nose on his shoulder. He got a strange whiff of corn chips and roses as her beady eyes stared at him through the part in her hair. He figured both owner and dog were pushing him to see how far he’d let them go. “As romantic as a slap shot to the groin.”

“I prefer Romeo and Juliet.”

For now, he’d let Lexie think she had him by the short and curlies because it was to his advantage for people—specifically his teammates—to think they’d known each other before she’d ended up in Sandspit with him. It was to his advantage for her father to believe he had feelings for her beyond irritation. And lust. Lust and irritation were an odd combination he’d never felt for a woman. Usually it was one or the other. If he could tamp down the lust and use the irritation, he could work it to his advantage. “Romeo and Juliet killed themselves.”

“The good news is that you don’t have to drink poison and I don’t have to stab myself.”

If he played out this charade, he’d probably want to kill her. Or himself, he thought as he folded his arms across his chest.

She took his silence for acquiescence. “It’ll all be painless, I promise.” She returned her beer to the table, and her ponytail fell over one shoulder.

“What about your father?”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No.” He couldn’t let John think he was a pussy more than he already did. “I’ll talk to him.”

“We’ll talk to him and my mother.” She straightened and turned toward him, her eyes still shiny with victory.

“Before a word of this goes public.” He glanced at the dog licking the shoulder of his navy blazer like he’d dropped food on it.

“No problem.” She stood as if her proposition was a done deal. “I’ll get a notepad and we can outline terms.”

She could outline all she wanted, but that meant nothing to him. “Hold on there.” She didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to schemes. “I have one condition before I even start to consider your plan.”

“What is that?”

“And it isn’t up for negotiation.” He stood and stared down into her deep blue eyes.

“Okay.”

“No shit storms.”

“No problem.”

He watched her turn and walk across the room. “Just relax,” she said over her shoulder. “We’ll work it all out beforehand. I have a plan.”

“No offense, but I don’t trust you to plan anything for me.”

“I’m an excellent planner,” she said as she opened a kitchen drawer. “I learned to outline for term papers and business plans at Kent State.”

He didn’t know she’d gone to Kent State, but he didn’t know much about her.

“It’s kind of my thing.” She took out a notebook and a pen. “We need to plan different scenarios in order to mitigate risk,” she said as she walked toward him.

His gaze slid from the top of her blond hair and down her pretty face. The only scenario he wanted to work out was putting his mouth on her lips and running his hands all over her body, but not bad enough to mess up his career with the Chinooks. Sex with any woman wasn’t worth that, but especially not with Lexie. She was beautiful and tasted sweet. A beautiful, sweet package that tempted a man to take a risk, even when he knew it was bound to blow up in his face.