Clarke Murphy hovers over me as I type the last few sentences of my latest article and send the e-mail to my editor. Her flowery perfume fills my nostrils as she flips her long, brown hair over her shoulder. Dressed in the tight skirt and pink top she wore last night, she sets my breakfast on my desk and takes a seat next to me.

Clarke peels back the paper on her breakfast sandwich and sinks her teeth into the bagel, chomping loudly in my ear. “You are going to make a name for yourself with this one, Mia. It’s one of your best stories.”

I shrug against my chair. “Maybe. I need something better than possible embezzlement of school funds. The drug ring that’s running out of Old City Records could be a goldmine.”

Her eyes and mouth widen at the same time. “It could also be dangerous. You have to get in with criminals if you want to take them down.”

“I need that lead to pan out. Every time I think I have something good, they switch their operation to another store.”

“What if the person feeding you the information is the one running the ring and they are trying to divert your attention?”

I open my sandwich and take a bite, allowing the meaty goodness to fill my mouth, an explosion of cheese and bacon turning me into a ravenous beast. I have to start making more money so I can afford to eat three square meals a day. Instead, I choose to spend money on hunting down potential leads I can sell to other papers to make some quick cash. Freelance journalism pays well if you can dig up the right dirt.

“We could work on a sting operation together, you know. Two more pairs of hands and eyes are better than one.” Clarke lifts the coffee mug on the desk in front of her and chugs the rest of the liquid before slamming it back down with a thud. “I mean that’s if you want my help.”

“Yeah, I would love some help. It’s a date.” I swivel in my chair, and Clarke has to scoot hers back to make some space for me.

My cubicle at the Philadelphia Inquirer is so small that fitting two chairs side by side was a challenge. We have to sit knee-to-knee, chomping down our food as we plot our next move.

Clarke taps me on the shoulder to get my attention, speaking between bites. “Would you mind tagging along with me today? I have to interview your brother and his teammates after getting pushed out of the playoffs. You know how I feel about your brother. No offense, but he’s such an ass.”

“None taken. I’m the only girl he’s not a total jerk to, so believe me, I get it.” I bite the inside of my cheek and think it over. “Umm…Yeah, I guess so. Things are kinda awkward right now. The apartment my brother shares with Ethan Waters flooded, and they are staying with me for the next two weeks.”

Her mouth opens in shock. “You have Ethan crashing at your place? I am so jealous right now. He’s insanely hot.”

I snort. “Don’t be. He’s a world-class dickhead and a manwhore. You are too good for him.”

“But,” she counters, holding her finger out in front of her, “I bet he’s amazing in bed.”

His naked body and thick cock creep into my mind for a second too long. Ethan has invaded not only my life and apartment but also my mind.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I confess. “But after what I saw this morning, you might be right about that.”

She giggles. “You saw Ethan naked already, didn’t you?”

I nod.

“Now, I am even more jealous than I was before.”

I lift a stack of papers from my desk and stand, hovering over her. “Ethan is the last person I want to think about before I’ve had the chance to drink my second cup of coffee. We have a staff meeting. Hurry up and eat that sandwich before we are late.”

She stuffs the remaining piece of her breakfast bagel into her mouth, mumbling something I can’t make out between bites.

“We are going to have so much fun teaming up.” A tiny squeal escapes her lips, and I try to hide my disgust about Ethan. He makes me so angry that I could spit, especially after the bathroom stunt he pulled this morning.

“I am not looking forward to the interview with the Flyers,” I admit. “But I will do this for you.”

She sticks her tongue out at me and grabs a notepad and pen from my desk, before following me out of my cubicle. “You are no fun anymore. All business and no pleasure. Maybe you should consider hooking up with Ethan. It might be good for you. When was the last time you had sex? For real, girl, you could use a little bit of Ethan Waters in you.”

I laugh at her stupidity, hoping no one heard her as we walk through the crowded office and to the conference room in the back. “I think I can live without that.”

I’ve done it for years.

“I still can’t believe Ethan Waters is staying with you at your apartment.” Clarke shakes her head, laughing. “You are in trouble, girl. I bet you won’t last the two weeks without jumping into bed with him.”

“Wanna bet?” I quip, wondering if there is some truth to her words.

She flashes a crooked smile and then winks at me. “Good luck with that.”

After this morning, I’m not so sure I will make it through another day with Ethan. This might be a bet that I cannot win.

* * *

I almost made it through the staff meeting this morning without thinking of Ethan and his cocky smirk. Almost. And I almost made it to the Wells Fargo Center, where our pro basketball and hockey teams play, without dreaming about him naked. But I haven’t been able to get Ethan out of my head. Somehow, he manages to annoy me even when we are apart.

As I walk through the front doors of the event center with Clarke, I spot a woman with blonde hair waiting by the escalators. She seems lost, staring into space and glancing up at the ceiling. I do a double take and realize she’s Regan, the Head of Communications for the Flyers and daughter of Mike Turner, the general manager.

“Regan Turner,” I say.

Her face lights up when she sees us and waves.

I wave back and walk over to her.

Regan closes the distance between us, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail over her shoulder, bobbing as she moves. Bouncing with each step, she stops and extends her hand to me.

She studies my face for a second and then continues, “Hey, I know you. You’re Will Roman’s younger sister. Mia, right?”

I withdraw my hand from hers and nod. “Yup. I’m Mia Roman, and this is Clarke Murphy,” I say, pointing at my co-worker and friend.

“It’s O’Connor now,” Regan says, holding out her hand. The massive diamond ring on her finger could buy me three meals a day for a year. Damn.

“You got married,” I say. “Congrats!”

She smiles. “I married a sexy computer programmer if you can believe that. I’m helping him run his start-up company now. My replacement starts next month.”

I pat her on the shoulder. “Good for you. I bet you’re dying to get away from all these professional athletes. They can be a real pain in the ass, I would know.”

She laughs. “Yeah, you do. Your brother is an interesting man. Well, we are happy to have you here today,” she says with a polite smile. “If you could follow me, I’ll take you to meet the team.”

Dressed in a black mid-length skirt that fits her petite frame perfectly, Regan makes the casual pants and sweater I have on seem frumpy in comparison. I feel underdressed for the occasion. We exchange pleasantries as we walk down the hall, the nerves creeping up the back of my throat. Most of the time, nothing fazes me.

Why am I so anxious?

Ethan pops into my head again, reminding me of the reason for the sickness brewing in my stomach. I have to focus, tell myself I am not here for Ethan. I’m not even here for the other players. This is my job—not an extension of my personal life.

Since I was in high school, I’d wanted to become an investigative journalist, but I’m still climbing the ladder at the Philadelphia Inquirer. All the good jobs go to those with more seniority. So, I have to wait my turn and bide my time. I thought I could make a name for myself with a case like the Old City Records drug ring. But every lead to a better story, one that could make my career, has taken me down a road to nowhere.

As we step into the pressroom, my eyes immediately fall to Ethan, as if drawn to him. My insides clench from the pang of desire mixed with hatred for my older brother’s best friend. If only he were the same boy I once knew. Then, it would make these unwanted emotions less annoying.

Ethan slides his chair out from the table, his legs spread wide, and my mind drifts to dirty places. He gives me a sexy-as-fuck look, the corner of his mouth turning up into one of his signature smirks. My heart beats faster, adrenaline shooting through my veins from the intoxicating effect Ethan has over my body.

I want him, even though I shouldn’t go within ten feet of him. He probably has diseases with all the puck bunnies he’s hooked up with over the years. Yeah, I’ll go with that excuse. Lying to myself is easier than admitting my feelings for the man I loathe. Or at least try to hate.

Ethan drags his hand up his thigh and pats it as if telling me to sit. Asshole.

“Baby sis,” Will says, cutting through the group of muscular hockey players to get to me. He pulls me into a hug, tapping me way too hard on the back. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

I cough as he releases me, attempting to get my bearings. “I wasn’t supposed to come along. Clarke asked me to help her out.”

He laughs. “I’m sure she can use it. These guys can be a handful.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tyler Kane says, coming up from behind my brother.

In person, he’s even more attractive with his surfer tan, blue eyes, and short blond hair. The last I’d heard he had married a local sports reporter. Lucky girl.

Tyler extends his hand to me and makes the usual introductions. He runs a hand through his hair and smiles. “Your brother talks about you all the time. It’s nice to meet you, Mia.”

“You, too, Tyler. Who wants to go first?” I point my finger at Tyler. “How about you, team captain?”

“I’ll take him,” Clarke says to me.

Since this is Clarke’s gig, she takes the lead and begins by interviewing Tyler, leaving me alone with Will.

Will leads me by the hand to the other side of the conference table. “You already know everything there is to know about me, but ask away.”

We sit in two open chairs, my nerves finally subsiding until Ethan rolls his chair from the head of the table to meet us.

“I like tag teams,” Ethan says with a crooked grin.

I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you do.”

“I was talking about the interview. Get your mind out of the gutter, Mia.”

I wave my hand dismissively in front of him. “Well, I know how you athletes like to avoid interviews whenever possible. Don’t think because either of you knows me that you can sit here and give me a hard time. I’m here to do my job, the one I’m being paid to do. Need I remind you that job pays the bills and puts food on my table, so no bullshit, okay?”

“You can start with me,” Ethan offers. “And don’t worry about the food and rent. Will and I have that covered for the next month.”

I lose my breath along with my train of thought, and this time, for a different reason than the aching Ethan causes between my legs.

“Did you just say a month?”

He nods. “Yup, we heard back from the property manager this morning. The insurance company came out to assess the damage. Because of the amount of damage and the mold removal and testing they need to do, they’re telling us about three to four weeks.”

“Let’s hope for three,” I deadpan.

Ethan cups my knee, just like I used to do to him when we were kids, hanging out on the swing set in my backyard. “I wouldn’t count on it. You are stuck with us for the next month.”

“Lighten up, Mia,” Will says. “Come out with us tonight. Now that we’re roomies, you have to drink with us.”

Ethan tugs at the sleeve of my sweater, making a strange face at me. “And you might want to leave your grandma’s clothes at home. Clubs downtown have dress codes. They won’t care how hot you are if you look like you knit the clothes you’re wearing.”

“Dude, did you just tell my sister she’s hot?” Will leans forward, his hands folded in front of him, and looks over at Ethan, annoyed. “Stop hitting on my sister.”

I push my hands out at my sides to silence them. “There’s already too much testosterone in this room as it is. Let’s not get into a fight, boys.”

“I’d be less hostile if he would take his hand off your leg,” Will growls. His eyes are honed in on Ethan’s hand, and I want to die for not telling him to remove it sooner.

Ethan moves his hand, the loss of his heat making me want him more. He must be thinking the same thing because I can see the need in his eyes. Well, that’s not going to happen. At least not on Will’s watch. When it comes to my brother, he would put a chastity belt on me if he could.

“Start with me,” Will says, with anger still in his voice.

I cross my leg over the other and spin my chair so that I am facing Will. With my back turned to Ethan, I can breathe a little easier. Being under his microscope was driving me insane.

“What is there to know about you that I don’t already? You’re my brother, the starting right winger for the Flyers, and you ended the regular season with sixty-one points.”

Will gives me an amused smile. “You did your homework on me, huh?”

I nod. “It’s part of my job. I read everyone’s bio and stats before I left the office.”

“You always do more work than you need.” Will crosses his arms across his chest. “My sister, the book nerd.”

“Don’t mock the photographic memory, hockey boy.” I laugh, as does Will. “Moving on. I know your stats, position, all the basics. I even know why you started playing hockey. We can skip the usual crap.”

“No one has ever written that story about me, you know. I told a few reporters about how Pop Pop used to take us ice skating when we were kids and how he gave me my first hockey stick. All they cared about was who I was dating and if I had any skeletons in my closet.”

“As a journalist, I can tell you that would bore the readers to death. Only hardcore fans care about your personal life and why you started playing hockey. I’d want to write about scandals, puck bunnies, baby mama drama, you know, the fun stuff.”

“I wouldn’t call that fun,” Ethan says to my left, his gravelly voice forcing me to look at him as he speaks. “Our personal lives aren’t something for reporters to go digging through to sell papers.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Waters. Don’t get your boxers twisted. I was just saying that juicy personal stuff is what sells newspapers.”

“It’s how you said it as if you are chomping at the bit to find some dirt on us to print.”

“There’s not much to cover for you. Sex and hockey, rinse and repeat. Oh, and the occasional binge drinking. Did I forget something?”

“There’s more to me than hockey,” he spits back, defensive.

I shoot an arrogant smile in his direction. “I don’t doubt that. Care to answer the question I asked you earlier?”

Ethan grinds his teeth together, clamping his mouth shut.

“Didn’t think so,” I mutter.

The man sitting next to me is the reason I had pursued journalism in college. For years, I’d scoured the Internet in search of answers. Why did Ethan leave? I never found any records for his so-called hockey camp that he was at ten years ago. In fact, I couldn’t find a second record for him while he was gone. It was as if Ethan Waters had vanished into thin air. One day, about three years ago, I thought I’d stumbled upon something worth investigating. It turns out it was another one of my dead-end leads.

I found one thing. A story about his twin brother and the accident that shocked his entire high school. The details in the local papers were limited, most likely silenced by his family’s money. He never once mentioned he had a brother. I’m not even sure if Will knows.

“If you don’t want to give me something worth writing,” I tell Ethan, “then I guess I will make something up. Maybe a secret baby or something juicy.” I laugh to let him know that I am joking.

Ethan shakes his head at me, pissed off. “You will pay for that later.”

“Ooh, I’m shaking.” I throw my hands up in the air. “You have no power over me.”

“When you are least expecting it, just you wait and see.” He gives me a devilish grin, reminding me of when he played a prank on me when we were kids.

“I know your rubber spider joke, so don’t even think that will work this time.”

“Nah, I have something better in mind. The spiders were Will’s idea not mine.”

I push my chair out from the table so that I can get a better look at Ethan and Will. “To save time, I’m going to throw questions out there, and whoever answers first wins.” I chuckle as I remove the tape recorder from my messenger bag and hit record. “What are your plans for the off-season?”

Ethan and Will start talking at the same time, their voices drowning out the other. I sink into the plush leather chair and let them take turns answering my questions, all while daydreaming about Ethan.

I am so screwed.