The elevator carried us to the twelfth floor. With each ding of the levels, my stomach did another flip. What in the hell was I doing? I was getting ready to spend my first night in Rio in the Olympic village. With Lachlan Kenzie.

I should be tucked into a nice, plush hotel bed with down pillows and crisp white sheets.

“What is your roommate going to say?” I asked nervously.

My belly twisted in knots. I felt as if I was sneaking into an all-boys dorm. I wasn’t eighteen anymore, but the feeling was the same. I was breaking rules. Crossing boundaries. Abandoning all my common sense.

“I don’t have one.”

I followed him down the hall.

“Why not?” I remembered reading something about how the athletes were paired together based on sports.

“The wanker didn’t want to room with me.”

I started to worry that the problems with Lachlan were greater and deeper than today’s headlines. Then I felt the panic of being utterly alone with the British playboy. Yes, a roommate would have been awkward, but at least I wouldn’t have been on my own.

He pushed the door open. I stared at the minimal amount of furniture. There were two twin beds covered in gaudy comforters decorated with whimsical sports logos, two night stands, and two plywood wardrobes. It wasn’t much to house the world’s best athletes. I immediately regretted not rescheduling this meeting for tomorrow. I wanted a hot shower and privacy. I wanted my hotel room and room service. I was starving and exhausted.

And I realized the way Lachlan’s dark eyes followed my every move had started to do something to me. I chewed my bottom lip nervously.

I walked toward the small, boxy window. The pools below were now illuminated. I could see the Olympic rings glowing on the bottom of each pool.

I turned around when I heard Lachlan’s gruff voice.

“Like the view?”

I swallowed hard, trying not to focus on the fact that I was in a small room with the notorious athlete. Alone. I could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin. There was no room to breathe in here.

I moved from the window and rummaged through my bag, looking for my notes on the Kenzie game, which was on the top page. “It’s fine. Not as nice as my hotel, but we have business to discuss.”

I sat on the edge of one of the twin beds. I noticed the sheets were still folded. Lachlan hadn’t made his bed. It looked as if his bag was untouched.

“Have you been here today?”

“No. First time in the room, actually. We moved in today. The team though it would show unity. I didn’t have much say.”

That explained why he went on a documented drinking and whoring spree through Rio last night. He knew it would be harder to party inside the fence.

“What do you think about the village so far?” I asked.

He walked toward me, towering over the bed. His body was lean and athletic. He may not have been disciplined in his personal life, but I doubted he ever skipped workouts. His arms bulged against the thin fabric on his short sleeves. I wanted to look away, but my eyes were glued to his toned limbs.

“I’m not much of a team player, Ms. Pitch. I don’t feel the need to be in the village. It’s a little rustic for my taste.”

“Are you saying you don’t care about being here for the Olympics?”

I was trying to figure him out. Focusing on his motives was better than getting sucked in by his rugged jawline and penetrating eyes.

“I’m only here because people like you want me here.”

I felt the jab at the reason for tracking him down. He had an open disdain for my position.

“People like me?”

“Yes.” His eyes glowered. “If I’m not at the games, it somehow costs you money. That’s all you care about. That’s why you’re here. Your puppet didn’t perform today so you flew down to pull his strings a little tighter. Polish him for the next performance.”

“That’s insulting.” I threw the open folder on the bed.

“But true.” He stared at me and I felt my pulse beat faster. “I don’t like being your puppet.”

“Puppet? I’m here to save the Kenzie game. Your game. You should be grateful someone is in your corner.”

“Grateful?” he scoffed.

I jumped off the bed. “Do you have any idea what kind of PR nightmare is in front of you? I read the latest on you while I was in the lobby. It’s gotten worse since I landed in Rio. You lost three sponsorships today. Three. And your agent. You might get sued by a sleazy photographer because you knocked him to the ground in front of a crowd of people. Your team apparently hates you and there’s talk you’re not even going to play after that stunt you pulled at the stadium today.” I pressed my hands on my hips. “You left your team before an Olympic practice. Who does that?”

“So, yes. Grateful. You should be grateful you have someone left who hasn’t dropped you like the toxic train wreck you are.” My hands flew to my mouth. I was worked up. It was a long anxious day of waiting and traveling. I said more than I should have. I instantly regretted it.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

Once I started I couldn’t stop. Everything came tumbling out.

“Anything else?” he asked.

I shook my head. I had lost all professionalism. All composure. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“If you’re done, I was thinking about taking a shower.” He tugged on the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it over his chest.

My mouth hung open.

He wanted me to see his perfect body. How it was crafted into sharp angles and ridges that met more planes of firm muscles.

He strolled across the room and turned on the light in the bathroom. The glow of lights behind him contrasted with his tanned skin and hair. His broad shoulders filled the doorway.

“But the game,” I protested. I knew I owed him a better apology—I had speared him.

“I’ll be out in a few, love.”

He closed the door and I stared in disbelief.

I heard the shower sputter to life on the other side of the door. I was out of my element. I was in over my head. Lachlan Kenzie was in control, and suddenly I felt as if I were back on that airplane getting ready to take off.