ZOE

I think . . . I think that I’m on a date with Andre Beaumont.

It’s tough to say, really, because I didn’t think that Andre did the whole dating thing, but there’s no denying the fact that he’s being . . . charming. Playful. Sexy in a way that makes my toes curl in my shoes and my heart beat out of control.

“Tell me something that happened to you in the last year,” he says as he spoons salsa onto his al pastor taco. “First thing that comes to mind.”

First thing that comes to mind? I take a sip of my soda, buying myself time. “Well, right before I left Detroit, I sold everything. Ended up living in a hotel for a few weeks.”

Dark eyes pin me in place. “That’s the best you can do, Zo? You lived in a hotel?” He sets his taco down, wiping his hands on a cloth napkin, and then drops his elbow to the table. “Let the professional go first.” He says this with a sardonic tilt to his mouth, never letting me forget that he’s still Andre Beaumont, the most feared player in the NHL.

But then he goes and spoils the image by chuckling softly. “First day with the—wait, what did Hunt say?”

“When?”

“At The Box—oh yeah, setting the scene. All right, let’s do it right, eh?” He drinks his water—nothing less for his temple of a body—and then spreads his hands wide, like he’s about to start wind-milling them.

Laughter threatens to let loose from my chest. “What the hell are you doing, Andre?”

His brow furrows, drawing inward. “Setting the scene.”

Leaning back in my chair, I fold my arms over my chest. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“I’m drawing the curtains . . . You know what? Forget the scene bit.” His full mouth presses together. “Okay, so there I am in the locker room. We’ve just finished with practice, and I’ll admit that I was being a bit of an asshole—”

I grin, just a little. “Nothing out of the ordinary, of course.”

He returns the grin, along with a sexy wink that has my thighs clenching together under the table. “Exactly, honey. Anyway, maybe I’d ticked off some of my teammates, maybe they were already planning this shit, but I’m getting ready to put away my equipment.” His dark eyes glimmer with the memory. “Now that I think about it, I should have known those bastards were up to something with the way they kept watching me. Anyway, I open my locker door and bam! Ice.”

I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter. The image of Andre Beaumont, King Sin Bin, standing in front of his locker as ice cubes rain down on him is just . . . perfect. Utterly, absolutely perfect. “What did you do?” I ask between bursts of laughter.

“What do you think?” He digs back into his plate again, taking a bite of his taco before topping it off with more water. “I cleaned that shit up, griping and threatening anyone who came close.”

“Am I supposed to apologize on their behalf?”

His foot touches mine under the table, then doesn’t move. I suck in a deep breath and then meet his gaze. “Nah, honey. The ice was nothing. The fact that they spent the next week leaving plastic critters in my duffel bag was worse. Roaches, snakes, crickets, you name it. I think they got a sadistic thrill out of making me shriek.”

“No, of course not,” I say, pressing a hand to my chest in mock-surprise. “Making the league’s most intimidating enforcer shriek? Utterly boring and so not worth their time.”

But Charming Andre has come out to play. In response to my sarcasm, he puckers his lips and murmurs, “Kiss me and I’ll forgive you for the sass.”

“No way.” The giggles threaten to take over. “The sass is here to stay.”

“Perfect, just the way I like you.” He pushes up from his seat, dropping his napkin to the table, and comes around to my side. “A kiss, honey. Just one.”

Heart, stop doing somersaults. I lift my chin. “You had a kiss.”

“One wasn’t enough.” His voice lowers, sucking me in. “A hundred will never be enough.”

And that’s when I realize—I’m pretty sure this is a date. He’s right, too, about the kiss thing. A hundred will never be enough, not for me. I tip my chin back, silently telling him to go for it, to take his kiss and to stake his claim.

But he surprises me. His lips don’t land on my mouth, as I expected, but my cheek. Then my nose. Then my forehead. The forehead kiss. Oh, God, this is a date. Heart squeezing with anticipation, I cup his cheek and bring his lips to mine. They collide, gentle, coaxing, so damn softly, and that’s when I know that Andre is trying to open up. He’s trying to be vulnerable. And that, more than anything, is sexy.

He withdraws with a wink, then retakes his seat opposite me again. “All right, so, you heard from me. One thing that happened in this past year that I wanted you to know about. Tell me yours.”

Considering that my last year has been consumed by thoughts of this man, I go for blunt honesty. “You know that TV show, 1000 Ways To Die?”

Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, what about it?”

Aboot.

So cute.

“Well,” I say, playing with my napkin, “I may have put a new spin on it.”

Andre sucks in a breath. “Damn. Zo, I mean, I don’t really know any police officers but—”

I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “I didn’t kill anyone. I may have just spent a lot of time thinking about different ways to . . . tie you up, and take my revenge for skipping out on me.”

He doesn’t say anything.

I don’t say anything.

Welp, this just got awkward.

But then he breaks the silence, his voice as dark as sin. “How many ways?”

My shoulders jerk. “What?”

His black eyes warm, and I feel the reciprocal heat in my lower body. “How many ways did you think of to tie me up?”

Now you’ve done it. “Roughly one-hundred and seventy-five, if, you know, we’re taking into account locations in the world that I envisioned doing so.”

In less than five seconds, it seems, Andre has dropped cash onto the table, our remaining food has been boxed, and we’re standing outside of La Cantina in the cold. Except that I don’t feel cold. If anything, I feel like I’m burning with fever.

“Have somewhere to be?” I hear myself ask.

“Yup.” Andre encircles my shoulder with his arm, pulling me to him, and plants a hot kiss on my lips. “We’re going back to my house, and you’re starting with the first item on your list. I have only one request.”

My breathing is coming fast now, and I lift my gaze to his handsome face. “What’s that?” I whisper.

His lips find mine again. “That you’re one-hundred percent naked.”

I grin. “Done.”