Harper had never been a nightclub type girl. She wasn't one of those girls who needed an excuse to wear a tight dress or one of those girls who thought dancing fixed everything. If she was stressed or needed a release, she grabbed an Xbox controller and played the latest Call of Duty game. It kept her focused and thinking solely about her mission - blow as much up as possible - and let her escape from the world for a few hours.

That didn't mean she was a tomboy. Far from it. She loved shopping for dresses and had a subscription to Cosmo she read religiously. She had a few fashion blogs she followed and developed her style into something that represented who she was. She loved shoes like any woman, and her shoe collection filled more than half of the tiny closet in her one-bedroom apartment.

Dancing, however, was not something she was privy to. Her body was too awkward and she felt like a fool, like everyone could tell she was pretending to be this cool girl who danced at nightclubs. She didn't fit in and she didn't want to.

However, Seraphina needed a character piece written about Zachary Ryan. "Honestly, we need to make him likable," Seraphina had told her in that meeting. "I want fans to care about him, not just that he's a first line type of player."

Harper agreed and Seraphina promised Katella would officially introduce the two of them that evening at Taboo, a nightclub located in Costa Mesa the single hockey players liked to frequent on their off days and the summers. Seraphina wouldn't be attending because she didn't want to mix with her employees. Also, if any news outlets found out she was partying with the players, her reputation would be crucified. Harper didn't think it was fair but Seraphina didn't seem to mind in the slightest and wished Harper good luck.

Harper and Katella discussed logistics and came up with a plan that consisted of Harper picking Katella up from the home she shared with her younger sister and driving the two of them to the club together. Also, Harper offered to be Katella's designated driver should the twenty-seven-year old need to indulge in comfort drinks, considering she was still reeling from her breakup a couple of months before. However, Katella offered to drive and said she didn't plan on drinking all that much, and before Harper was mentally ready for tonight, she found herself in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Mercedes-Benz.

Katella looked gorgeous. The Hanson sisters were known for both their brains and their beauty. Seraphina was more earthy, while Katella was more classic. Her strawberry blonde was swept up in a loose knot and her makeup was heavy without being overwhelming. She wore a ruched violet dress that was both short and low without being slutty. Her breasts were emphasized by the push-up bra, as were her long legs. In fact, if Harper had to guess, Katella knew exactly what to hide and what to show off. It was probably why the Gulls’ Girls - the National Hockey League's version of cheerleaders that swept the ice during the breaks throughout the games - were voted as the top choice amongst fans last year. Katella was their coach, their coordinator, and their designer. She knew what worked and what didn't.

In fact, as much as people criticized Seraphina, Katella was ripped the first few months after her grandfather's murder. Not only had she not inherited the team even though she was older by a year, she was dating one of the players openly and proudly. She had a public breakup and was partly blamed for the Gulls' terrible season. She was labeled as a curse and questions swirled about what was wrong with her that not even her grandfather would trust her with his team.

To be honest, Harper hadn't been sure what to expect when it came to Katella. She was preparing for someone a little more forward, a little less tactful, but so far, Katella was sweet and genuine, nothing like the papers made her out to be.

"Thanks for doing this," Katella said, finally breaking the ice and glancing at Harper from the corner of her eye. "I'm not really much of a club person either. But I help coordinate social excursions and team bonding sessions that correlate with social perception rather than the team bonding excursions the coach plans and is reserved for strictly the team. It's almost a requirement I show up."

"You don't like clubs?" Harper asked, her voice hesitating only slightly.

She watched as Katella's lip curled up but she kept her eyes focused on the road ahead of her. "I know that people think I'm the party girl because I'm basically the Gulls' event coordinator," she said and then snorted. "It doesn't bother me, how people perceive me. But to answer your question, no, I'm not a fan. I don't really drink. But I love dancing."

Harper smiled. "I hate it," she said, feeling herself relax in her seat. "I feel super awkward."

Katella laughed, nodding. "So do I," she said, "but being awkward is kind of fun."

* * *

By the time they reached the club, Harper had a newfound respect for Katella Hanson. And there was a good chance she might actually have fun tonight.

Taboo was a nightclub located in the heart of Costa Mesa's outdoor mall. It looked small on the outside but Harper was almost positive it would be much bigger and louder when they walked through. There was already a line waiting to get in even though it was just after ten, when the club opened. Harper didn't see any members of the team but she did notice some people in line shoot her and Katella dirty looks when they got to walk past the line and, after a quick search through their purses, allowed in without even paying the cover fee.

The music was loud and the dance floor was small. It was halfway filled already. The bar wrapped around the edge of the room, and the dance floor was dead center. Mainstream pop music remixed in with techno was currently thumping. Harper hated when they transformed a song she liked into something she didn’t, but decided to ignore the music as best as she could for now. Instead, she followed Katella past the dance floor, past the bar, through a small doorway that led to a quieter room only VIPs had access to. There was still music – a different song but the same style – but it was emptier, and there was a private bar in the corner. It also wasn’t standing room only. There were couches and comfortable chairs.

It was the first time Harper felt cool, which was dumb because Harper didn't care about being cool one way or the other. She was one of the least cool people she knew. But walking into the club in a tight dress and high heels next to Katella made her feel like a badass. It didn't hurt that the people waiting in line gave her dirty looks as they did so.

Once they were inside, the lights were dim except for mood lighting and strobe lights moving and flashing different colors in time with the beat. The dance floor was remarkably small filled with bodies pressing close together trying to dance. The bar was located in the back, closest to the elevated cup section of the club, which was packed with people trying to buy drinks.

Harper felt her heart seize with intimidation and she had to clutch her purse tighter to refrain from reaching up and putting her hands over her ears. She stayed close to Katella as she led the two to the VIP section of the club. They had to walk up a small flight of sleek back stairs that had no hand railings so Harper had to be careful in her heels to walk up them. There was a big bouncer in black clothes standing next to the stairs. He didn't even check Katella's id as she walked up the stairs. Maybe he would assist should someone need him to.

When they reached the top, the club suddenly turned into a lounge. Low red couches and chairs and sleek glass coffee tables. An even smaller dance floor that was only half-full. Girls dressed in even shorter dresses, younger than Harper was, dancing on laps and forcing smiles. The men watched with mild interest, more interested in conversations with each other rather than the girls. They're probably desensitized to it, honestly.

Katella made her way past three tables before reaching the back where half the hockey team sat in the corner. A few of them had girls with them but most did not. There were a few power players as well who lit up when they saw Katella. It might have been just Harper but a couple of them looked just as uncomfortable as she felt despite being in a profession that stigmatized them as mute, beautiful young women.

"Zach," Katella said. She didn't have to shout his name because the music wasn't as loud here. "This is Harper. She'll be doing the character piece on you Seraphina spoke to you about earlier."

His eyes picked up from his drink - a bottle of beer half drunk - and locked onto Harper. She felt her breath pause but she refused to look away from his penetrating stare.

"You were at the press conference," he said in a low tone. Somehow, Harper could hear his words even over the music. "I noticed you. You were the only person there in jeans."

Harper clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping. How did he know that? Did he really notice her among the crowd of people? And if so, how could he possibly notice that with everything going on? She had been watching him the whole time and it appeared as though he hadn't even looked her way. Maybe she was wrong. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his unnoticed scrutiny, either. Perhaps it was a good thing, though. Maybe he employed that talent on the ice.

He took a sip of his beer, looking away. He had a strong jawline and high cheekbones. Masculine. He wasn’t pretty but he was attractive in a rough sort of way. The only thing soft about him was his eyebrows, which arched naturally over his eyes. He had a very distinct look about him; it was hard to look away.

"I'm not really sure this is a good place to talk," he said, shifting his eyes back to her. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"

"I'm not going home with you!" She didn't know why she sounded so defensive. Even he seemed surprised by her outburst.

She pressed her lips together and looked away. How completely unprofessional. God, she had one chance to change the stereotype of particular female hockey fans where she genuinely cared about the sport and strategy rather than the attractiveness of the players and how to swindle them into marriage so her life would be set. The first words out of her mouth to Zachary Ryan was rejecting his possible advances. But the thing was, judging by the look on his face, that was not his intention. At all.

"Okay, well I'm glad we got that out of the way," he said. He tilted his head to the side and gave Harper a long look. "What would make you think you're my type anyway? You aren't married."

Harper instinctively curled the fingers of her left hand into a fist. He picked up on the fact that she wore no wedding ring. He was perceptive. More so than she could ever have expected.

"You don't mean that." She didn't know why she was defending him from himself. Who was she? Some woman instructed to write about this player who broke contract and demanded to be traded after the Bangles booed him - their own player - when he came into the ice because rumor has it he slept with his teammate's wife. Harper didn't really care about the truth of it but now she was curious. Zach never publically commented but the team seemed to completely isolate him and the fans seemed to hate him. But that didn't make the rumors true.

"How do you know?" he asked, genuinely curious with a hint of a challenge in his tone. "You don't know me."

"No," Harper agreed with a smile, "but it's my job to find out who you are."

Zach rolled his eyes, causing Harper to frown.

“Everyone has their perception of me,” he said before taking another swig of beer. “You heard the questions they threw at me. Not about my fifty-plus points, not about my sixty-seven percent win in the faceoff circle, not about my thirty plus goals per season in my eight-year career. It’s about my personal life.”

“Yeah, well, let’s write a different story,” Harper said. “I’m just trying to do my job and part of your job is dealing with the press. So.” She grabbed a small notepad from her clutch. “Let’s get started.”