I waited for Holly to answer, hoping she wasn’t ready to call it a night. Yes, when I had left Travis and the guys at the arena, I’d been more than interested in hooking up with some random girl. But for some reason, ever since meeting up with Holly, Trent, and Kelsey tonight, that need had burned away like the San Francisco fog. Now I was more interested in hanging out with Holly instead.

No, I wasn’t falling for her, nor did I believe my life would be more complete with her in it. I didn’t buy into that bullshit. The only true love I had room for in my life was hockey. Between the training, the practices, the games, and the road trips, there wasn’t much time for anything else.

And let’s not forget the complications that arose if you were traded. If you were married, your family now had to put their lives on hold to move to a different city and start all over again. Same deal if you were in a serious, committed relationship.

But what happened if you weren’t?

What happened if she decided to move in with you and you weren’t interested in the extra baggage—no matter how incredible she was in bed?

No, I wasn’t talking from experience, but a few of my teammates had sworn off girlfriends because of it…like Travis.

But for a guy—like me—who wasn’t interested in marriage or having a family, being a hockey player was the perfect career.

“I’m ready to go,” Holly said, answering my question. “But I’m not ready to go home yet.” Her mouth spread into a playful grin. “Let’s go somewhere and really have some fun, mate.” There were times when Holly’s accent was stronger than normal. Apparently after having a few drinks was one of those times.

Did I mention my cock really appreciated her Aussie accent?

Before I could ask what she had in mind, she jumped up from her seat and held her hand out to me. “Let’s go dancing.”

A few minutes later, we were cabbing it to a new nightclub that had recently opened, which meant it was currently the hottest spot in town. Fortunately, the bouncer was a hockey fan. He waved us in with little more than a “Next year, man. Next year,” and a fist bump.

Yes, being an NHL player had its advantages. And I for one wasn’t against making the most of it—especially after our loss.

Inside, the club was as busy as expected, both on the dance floor and off. Pop music pulsated through the speakers, making it hard to have any sort of conversation. But I didn’t come here to talk to Holly. And from the way she was swaying, talking was also the last thing she was interested in.

“Let’s dance,” I said, then without giving her a chance to reply, I grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd to the dance floor.

Didn’t like dancing when the floor was packed? Then you’d obviously been dancing all wrong—and with the wrong partner. I slipped my fingers under the hem of her top and stroked the soft skin on her lower back. Her breasts pressed proudly against the fabric, beckoning me to tease them with my fingers, with my mouth.

She was wearing a tight gray skirt that hugged her sexy ass and revealed her toned, never-ending legs. Her toned and never-ending legs that I had fantasized about on more than one occasion wrapped around my hips.

The neckline of her cream-colored top, with the tiny buttons down the front, was designed to be professional, not to flaunt her cleavage. But that didn’t stop me from imagining what her tits looked like under the soft fabric.

With her hands on my shoulders, she arched back and her breasts screamed, “Touch me!” But while they might’ve said that, I wasn’t so sure if Holly would agree so readily. Just because a girl danced provocatively didn’t mean shit. She was having fun, not giving me an open invitation to touch her the way I craved.

“I need a drink,” Holly said after we’d been dancing for a while. I had to agree with her there.

We squeezed our way through the crowd to the bar and ordered our drinks. Beer for me and a strawberry daiquiri for Holly.

Curious glances were tossed our way. Some said the individuals recognized me. Other individuals couldn’t care less about me but were more than interested in Holly—which came as no surprise.

“You wanna dance?” one guy asked her as we waited for our drinks.

The twinge of jealousy that shot through me? Yeah, I couldn’t explain it either. Holly and I were dancing. We weren’t involved. She had the right to dance with whomever she wanted.

And apparently, she agreed.

“Okay,” she said to the guy. To me she added, “I’ll be right back.”

While I waited for our drinks, I watched her dance. But it had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with how she moved. Except unlike with me, she didn’t dance close enough for the guy to touch her. Every time he tried, she maneuvered her body away from him. The move was subtle but there nonetheless—and it made me chuckle.

I continued to watch and appreciate her long, lean body. A dancer’s body. With breasts. Though from the way she moved, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had once been a dancer. From what Trent had told me, there wasn’t much she couldn’t do…other than laugh. Some women had laughs that caused all the dicks in a ten-mile radius to stand at attention. Not so with Holly.

But no one’s perfect.

In contrast to her, the guy was your average male who didn’t know shit about dancing. He mostly just swayed and stared at her. Or rather, stared at her tits. That’s not where her eyes are, dumbass.

“Hi,” a woman said next to me.

My gaze slid over to her and my puck-bunny alert system went into full effect—including the sirens and flashing lights. These girls were always easy to spot, once you had dealt with one or two of them.

“Hey,” I replied.

“You were amazing tonight,” she said, her voice a near purr. She was dressed the opposite of Holly, with a crop top that revealed her flat stomach and generous cleavage. She was pretty but had way more makeup on than I generally went for. She was the type of girl who spent an hour in the bathroom every morning before even her cat was allowed to see her.

On the other hand, she was the type of girl you never had to worry about when it came to spending the night. She was the fuck-and-bail type because of her fear of being caught without her makeup on.

“You saw the game?” Not all puck bunnies did. They couldn’t tell you a thing about the sport. They just knew who the players were and had Spiderman-like senses, enabling them to detect a player within the vicinity.

“Of course,” she replied. “Wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

The bartender parked the beer and daiquiri in front of me and I handed him the money. The bunny’s gaze dropped to Holly’s drink, and she ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip as if anticipating the taste of it herself.

“The drink’s for a friend of mine.” I nodded at Holly, who was now heading toward us, dancer boy no longer with her.

My gaze returned to the bunny. Something about her expression had me on edge. I’d seen it before when it came to her kind.

Now, we’re all familiar with the concept of the proverbial caveman, and how men have a tendency to regress into one whenever their woman is approached by other men—even if the other man isn’t a threat. We practically pound on our chests, grunting, “Mine.”

Meet the female equivalent. Except instead of pounding on her cavewoman chest, she was more likely to go all saber-toothed tiger on the other woman—with claws and fangs out.

Care for a demonstration?

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said to Holly.

Holly gave the bunny a fleeting glance, and understanding lit her face. I’d never called her sweetheart before, but she knew about puck bunnies. The topic had come up one day with Kelsey and Trent.

“Hi—” Holly began.

I pulled her to me and crashed my lips against hers. As if on instinct, her mouth opened and her tongue brushed against mine—and shit, if my cock didn’t just get excited.

But before it could get any more excited, Holly pulled back with a Did-I-do-good? smile on her face. I wasn’t sure if she was asking about the kiss (which I definitely wouldn’t complain about if she wished to do it again) or the stunt I’d just pulled.

I winked at her and she chuckled. Unlike her laugh, her chuckle was throaty and sensual. Like you imagined it would be if she were a jazz singer with a smoky voice.

The bunny smiled when we turned back to her, but it screeched to a halt before reaching her eyes. “And you’d be?” she asked Holly.

Holly held out her hand. “G’day, I’m Holly. I don’t believe Josh has ever mentioned you. And you’re…?”

“Autumn.”

True or false? Whenever you hear Chris Hemsworth speak with his native accent, you get horny. No lying. You know it’s true.

Well, it’s no different for a man when he hears an Aussie accent coming from a gorgeous woman.

And the bunny knew this.

Which was why her tone was the opposite of Holly’s friendly one.

Holly wrapped her arm around my waist, cozying up to me. My arm looped around her. I hadn’t realized until now how perfectly she fit against me like we were destined to be together—if you bought into that crap.

“Thank you for keeping Josh company while I was dancing,” Holly said, grinning sweetly at the bunny.

“You’re welcome.”

Did you see Autumn’s fangs? She was about to sharpen them on Holly. No, I wasn’t a psychic. I just recognized that look.

She smiled prettily at me. “Can I get your autograph? You’re my favorite player.”

“Sure.”

Yes, I kicked myself for that rookie mistake the moment she yanked down her low-cut top, revealing her lacy red bra and her humongous breasts—which I suspected had been greatly augmented. And while she hadn’t revealed the entire nipple, she did flash enough to give me a good idea of what they looked like.

She held out a sharpie to me.

“What did you think of the goal he scored tonight?” Holly asked. “I swear my heart stood still when he shot the puck toward the net.”

I tried not to laugh. I had two assists but hadn’t come close to scoring, much to my chagrin.

“Same here,” Autumn said. And what kind of goddamn name was Autumn? That was a season, not a name. Not that it was a bad name if she actually looked like an Autumn. But her blonde hair and pushed up tits reminded me of summer. Holly looked more like an Autumn, with her long auburn hair.

“She’s kidding,” I said, ignoring the sharpie.

Holly flashed her an oops-my-bad cringe, and I had to fight back yet another laugh.

“You’re not a real fan, are you?” Holly asked, sounding scandalized at the possibility.

Autumn stuck out her chest in a way that reminded me of the puffer fish I had once seen on a nature show.

“That’s not true,” she said. “I’m a huge fan.”

“If you were a real fan,” Holly pointed out, “you’d want him to autograph a piece of paper and not a piece of your chest. Because if you were a real fan, you’d want to keep that autograph in a safe place. And something tells me your chest is not a safe place. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a highly frequented location.”

I decided I’d better not introduce Holly to Travis. He’d likely fall in love with her. Never mind the hot accent, her smart mouth would have him hard in record time.

And of course, thinking that had my cock getting its own ideas…especially when it came to what it craved for her smart mouth to do to it.

Inwardly I groaned and recited the National Anthem in my head. Backward.

That did the trick.

Autumn threw me a How-could-you-let-her-talk-to-me-that-way? hurt look that was as real as her breasts.

I shrugged a “whatever” and on impulse kissed Holly’s temple.

That must have been the shiny new nail in the coffin that Autumn needed. She didn’t even bother to ask for my autograph via the more traditional means. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulders and stormed off.

“Wow, are they normally like that, the puck bunnies?” Holly asked.

“Yeah, pretty much. Some aren’t bad. It’s the more determined ones that can be a pain at times. I swear sometimes they’re more competitive than the actual players they’re after.” And that was saying a lot.

But this was probably why lately I had started to grow bored of them. Did that mean I didn’t have sex these days? Hell, no. It just meant I tended to go after the girls who were only interested in a good time. They didn’t care what the guy did for a living.

I grabbed the drinks from the bar and handed Holly her daiquiri. We then spent the next hour dancing and drinking another round. At that point, the club was on the verge of being overcrowded, and I spent more time signing autographs than I did dancing.

“You wanna get out of here?” Holly asked, and I could’ve kissed her.

All right. I did kiss her. I was all for positive reinforcement and rewarding brilliant suggestions—and you couldn’t get more brilliant than that.

We left the club more buzzed than when we had entered it, and definitely sweatier. But best of all, neither of us cared that my team was out of the playoffs and Holly’s grandmother had died. Tomorrow the ramifications would hit us, but for now we were appreciating the happy buzz.

At least we were until…

“Do you know what the worst part is about Nanna dying?” Holly said out of the blue as we walked along the waterfront after getting the cab to drop us off. Waves lapped against the concrete wall separating the ground from the ocean; otherwise, the world was quiet around us.

“No, what?”

“Having to go back home for the funeral.” She shuddered—either due to the idea of returning to Australia or because the May air held a slight chill.

“How is that so bad?”

“One word. My mother.” She giggled. Holly’s drunk giggle was kind of cute. “Oops! Make that two words.”

“I take it your mother isn’t great?” If we were to compare mothers, mine would be as far from being Mother of the Year as Earth was from Uranus.

“ ‘Holly,’ ” she said in a snooty tone that spoke of high income and house staff. Maybe even a butler who looked down his nose at unworthy house guests. “ ‘How could you believe that a ninety-five percent on your math test was an acceptable mark? Holly, proper young ladies do not run around the house like heathens.’ ” Holly giggled again.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty bad. Though I’m sure my mom could top yours.”

“Really? I didn’t think anyone could be worse than my parents.”

“My mom abandoned me when I was a kid.”

What’s the best way to shock someone? Do exactly as I just did. I usually didn’t tell anyone the truth about my parents. Blame it on the truth serum (AKA alcohol) this time. That, and because Holly had told me something about her parents. Tit for tat and all that crap.

With her green eyes round like the moon, Holly stared at me for a moment. “Oh, God. How could she do that?”

I shrugged. “She learned from the best—my father.”

“Wait, are you telling me both of your parents just up and left you?”

“Pretty much. My father played in the NHL and married my mom when they were young. It didn’t work out and he divorced her. It didn’t help that he preferred screwing puck bunnies to being married. After a few years of raising me by herself, she decided one day she’d had enough and left. No forwarding address. No nothing.”

Holly gasped. “What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do—I got up every day and went to school like I was supposed to, believing she was coming back. Eventually I realized she wasn’t. That was about the same time the landlady began demanding past-due rent. Long story short, social services was brought in and I was sent to live with my grandparents.” Nice story, huh? Don’t worry, I’d say I turned out all right in the end. For the most part.

Although from the way Holly was looking at me like she longed to give me a blowjob to make me feel better—or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part—I was toying with telling her what came next.

Once I turned sixteen years old, I stayed with billets. Think of them as foster care for junior hockey players who played for a team far from home. Some billets were great, while others were sadly lacking in the “great” department.

“Wow, and I thought it was bad enough when my parents abandoned my brothers and me to the care of our nannies. And Nanna,” she said, instead of giving me the blowjob I could have gone for. Too bad. “My parents weren’t around much, thanks to their careers. Dad was around even less than Mom, always traveling. Always at meetings. But they would never have let us fend for ourselves. I’m so sorry that happened to you, Josh.”

She reached up and gave me a kiss. It wasn’t a blowjob, but it was pretty goddamn hot. Hot enough to kiss away all my boo-boos.

“Is that why you don’t want kids?” she asked once she had pulled away. She was clearly remembering the conversation we’d had when we first met. We were having dinner with Trent and Kelsey, and the topic of kids came up. Both of us had said that we didn’t see kids in our future. “You figure that since your own parents failed you as a kid, you won’t do much better?”

“Pretty much. I haven’t exactly had the best role models, especially since my father used to play in the NHL and now I do. Not that it’s a big deal. I’ve long since realized the whole marriage and family-making deal isn’t for me. My hockey career is a bigger priority.”

“Same here—except in my case, replace hockey with a financial career. And since I’m not even an American citizen and don’t have my green card yet, I could easily be deported back to Australia tomorrow.” She grinned at me. “Too bad we don’t have anything to drink. We could’ve toasted to us not becoming parents and to avoiding marriage.”

I laughed. “I would definitely toast to that.” Then remembering how the conversation had started, I sobered up for a moment. “When’s your grandmother’s funeral?”

A soft sigh escaped her lips and she gazed at the ocean—and for the first time since I’d met her, the usually confident Holly looked lost. “Next Thursday.”

“Well, in case you haven’t heard, I’m now available. And I wouldn’t mind checking out Australia for a few days.”

Holly’s head spun back to me, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Are you saying you’ll go to the funeral with me?”

“Sure, why not? Unless you don’t want me there. I mean, if I’m cramping your style when it comes to all the horny men lining up for a chance to keep you there permanently.” I winked at her.

Holly let out a delighted squeal and flung her arms round my neck, surprising me. Before I could respond, her mouth crashed against mine again. She still tasted like a mix of alcohol and strawberries, and it didn’t take much prompting on my part for my tongue to invade her mouth.

She moaned, and I suddenly couldn’t get enough of her. I tangled my fingers in her hair and pulled back on it, allowing myself to deepen the kiss.

By the time we stopped a moment later, we were panting like dogs in heat. My entire body was aching to explore the rest of her with my tongue, but this wasn’t the place.

Hell, what was I thinking? Hooking up with friends was never a good idea.

Not that I spoke from personal experience, but I’d seen a few friends over the years cross the line and it never ended well.

If you didn’t count Trent and Kelsey.

But there was always one exception to the rule.

That was what my head said. My body had other ideas—all which involved my cock buried deep inside Holly.

Get a grip, I told my body. It didn’t listen, getting more excited over the word “grip.” I mentally rolled my eyes at its reaction.

“How about we go back to my apartment?” Holly suggested against my lips. “Then we can toast to not becoming parents, and about you saving my arse by coming to Australia with me.”

At the time it sounded like a great idea. I mean, seriously, what could go wrong?

Right. Famous last words.