Chuckie-the-fart.

Had she really just called him that?

Taylor glanced around, her face heating as she noticed her teammates' eyes on her. Yeah, she really had called him that. Good Lord, would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut?

It wasn't just her teammates that were watching her, with various expressions of surprise and impatience. Chuckie—or rather, Charles—was watching her, too, with startling blue eyes fringed in dark lashes that she didn't remember him having all those years ago. Hell, there were a lot of things she didn't remember him having: his height, which put him at least a good head taller than she was, even in her skates; broad shoulders and a wide chest that filled out his expensive suit. Thick, dark hair that was just a bit too long and made her fingers itch to brush it from where it grazed the top of the crisp collar of his shirt. A lean, sculpted face and square jaw—which happened to be clenched in impatience right now. His gaze pierced her, annoyance flashing in those deep blue eyes. She started to look away then noticed the way the tips of his ears were turning bright red from embarrassment.

Now that she remembered.

"You haven't changed a bit, Chuckie."

The red from his ears traveled across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. A muscle jumped in his jaw and his gaze narrowed even more, making him look like a predator. And God, would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut? Because he had changed and didn't look at all like the chubby, awkward boy she remembered. He had to know it. How could he not, when he was standing there in front of her looking like every woman's fantasy come to life?

"Tay-Tay. Why am I not surprised to see you here? I guess all your family connections finally paid off, huh?"

Zing.

It was no less than she deserved for egging him on, but the words still hurt—almost as much as the snickers coming from Rachel Woodhouse. Her hand tightened around the stick and she had to fight the urge to run up and cross-check him with it.

Just once.

Hard.

Just like old times.

She glanced over at Mr. Murphy and saw the way he studied her—and not in a good way. The last thing she needed was more trouble, especially not the kind she brought on herself. Yes, the ink on the contract—such as it was—was dry. That didn't mean things were set in stone. Not even close. There were still rumblings that the league might not make it past the first three games. Whether it did or didn't remained to be seen—that didn't mean Taylor wanted to cut her chances short by doing something stupid. She relaxed her grip on the stick and flashed a bright smile at Chuckie.

"So. Chuckie. You were saying?"

Those ocean-blue eyes narrowed on her once more, fixing her with a laser focus that sent a shiver dancing across her skin. Not from cold, though. No, that look was anything but cold. She tore her gaze from his and stared at the toes of her skates, wondering if her face was as red as it felt. It must have been, because Sammie nudged her in the side and muttered under her breath.

"Deets later, LeBlanc."

Taylor nudged her back and shook her head. "No deets to tell."

"Was there something you wanted to ask, Tay-Tay?"

Choked laughter quickly disguised by a cough echoed behind her. Taylor didn't have to look to know the sound came from Rachel. She tightened her grip on the stick and swallowed the urge to elbow the girl in the stomach then forced another bright smile as she met Chuckie's gaze.

"Nope. Just wondering if you were ever going to get around to telling us what you wanted, that's all."

The tip of Chuckie's ears turned red again as the muscle in his cheek jumped. That probably wasn't a good sign and she wondered if maybe she had pushed one too many times. She had to give him credit, though, because he simply blew out a quick breath and scanned each face for a quiet minute before speaking.

"As James said, I'm the new Director of PR and Marketing. It's my job to promote the team and build excitement for this new venture. To sell tickets and get people in the door. I'm going to need your help to do that."

Murmurs buzzed in Taylor's ears, a low drone that set her nerves on edge. She glanced around, saw confusion and curiosity on her teammates' faces, and quickly looked down as she tried to ignore the sinking feeling settling in her gut. She had a feeling she knew what was coming and she didn't want any parts of it.

Shannon Wiley, their primary goalie, pushed to the front. She anchored the helmet against her hip and shook the long strands of blonde hair from her face. Her voice was low and sultry, totally at odds with the razor-sharp bite of her personality that flashed in her deep brown eyes. "You need our help, how?"

Chuckie blinked once, a rapid lowering and raising of eyelids framed with thick, dark lashes. Taylor didn't miss the surprise that flashed in his eyes, there and gone before anyone else noticed.

But she did—because she knew Chuckie.

Okay, not really. Not anymore. Maybe not even when they were kids. The man standing in front of them bore little resemblance to the awkward pudgy boy who delighted in tormenting her all those years ago. But she still saw the surprise—probably because she had been looking for it. Taylor doubted that Chuckie was used to being questioned, especially not by a tall, dimpled blonde who looked like sex-on-a-stick but had the quick bite of a striking cobra.

"Part of my marketing plan includes featuring several individual players. All of you, to start with. I want to bring a more personal aspect to the game. To showcase not only the talent but the players behind the talent."

Shannon glanced around then leveled her dark gaze on Chuckie. "So, you want to sex us up? Is that it?"

Chuckie's surprise was clear this time, from the flush of red spreading across his face to the opening and closing of his full mouth. He looked like he wanted to say something but had no idea where to start. It didn't matter because he wouldn't have been able to get a word in, not with the sudden eruption of raised voices shouting questions. Mr. Murphy stepped beside Chuckie and raised his hand.

"Girls, enough. Nobody is sexing anyone up." He turned and fixed Chuckie with a questioning glance. "Isn't that right, Charles?"

"No. I mean, right." Ocean-blue eyes darted to hers and quickly looked away. "No sexing involved."

Heat unfurled low in her belly, the unexpected ribbons of warmth radiating out and prickling her skin. Taylor clenched her jaw and tried to ignore it. No way. Uh-uh. It was her imagination. It had to be. She was not going there. No way, no how.

She was still telling herself that when Sammie stepped forward and raised her hand. The voices around them faded and stilled as Mr. Murphy looked at her and smiled. "Yes, Sammie?"

"Mr. Murphy, what exactly does this mean? Because it's not like we have extra time for something like this." Sammie paused and looked around, then turned back to the men. "All of us have other jobs. Some of us have kids. We can't—"

"Charles will be certain to keep your schedules in mind. Isn't that right, Charles?"

"Absolutely." Chuckie nodded but he didn't look quite so certain. In fact, Taylor thought he looked a little surprised and maybe even taken aback. 

  Did he actually think they were earning a living playing for the Blades? No, he couldn't be that misinformed.

Could he?

Chuckie stepped forward and offered the small group a charming smile. "Flexibility isn't an issue. I'll do everything I can to make this as easy and seamless as possible. For all of us."

More rumblings and murmurs greeted his words. Sure, they sounded reassuring, but Taylor sensed an edge to them, like he wasn't quite certain. Or maybe he was just now starting to realize that the group of women standing in front of him wasn't going to be quite so easily managed as he probably thought.

He opened his mouth again then quickly shut it as a small group of kids entered the rink, laughing and talking as they headed toward the benches. Chuckie's brows lowered in a frown, like he was trying to figure out where the kids had come from and why they were here. Mr. Murphy leaned over and said something to him in a low voice. Surprise flashed across his face as he turned to look at the noisy group.

He must have just learned that this rink—the Banners' old practice rink—didn't belong exclusively to the Blades. Yes, the team owned it. Or rather, Mr. Murphy owned it. But they rented out ice time to local youth hockey teams so they didn't have open access to it. The Blades had to schedule their ice time just like everyone else, for their practices and games. Taylor bit back a smile. Poor Chuckie had his work cut out for him.

Mr. Murphy turned back and gave them all a wide smile. "Okay girls, we've taken enough of your time today. Thank you. Charles will be in touch with each of you. For now, go enjoy the rest of this gorgeous weather we're having."

And just like that, they were dismissed. Taylor barely refrained from rolling her eyes and headed toward the locker room, Sammie right beside her. She thought about lengthening her stride and hurrying away but knowing Sammie, she'd just trip her with her stick then sit on her until she got what she wanted.

"Okay LeBlanc, fess up. How do you know the hottie?"

"I don't. Not really."

"I call bullshit."

"Really, I don't. I haven't seen him in…" Taylor paused, frowning as she mentally counted the years. "Wow. It's been about twelve years, I guess. We were on the same team as kids."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. He was a pain in my ass."

"I could put up with a pain in the ass if he looked like that."

"Trust me, he didn't. He was—"

"LeBlanc! A word?"

Taylor cringed and looked over her shoulder, surprised to see Chuckie a few feet behind them, those ocean-blue eyes fixed on her with laser precision. She couldn't read the expression in them but that didn't stop the heat from settling low in her belly.

Sammie laughed, nudged her in the side, then hurried toward the locker room. Taylor ignored her and stood there, watching as Chuckie approached her with the stealth of a predator. Warning bells rang in her head but she didn't move.

"What's up, Chuckie?"

Frustration flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by something she couldn't quite read. The warning bells rang even louder as he came to a stop in front of her, so close she could smell the faint hint of his spicy cologne.

"Do you think you could manage to stop calling me by that ridiculous name?"

Taylor planted the butt of her stick against the rubber floor and rested her arm along the blade. She gave him a wide smile and shrugged. "I can try. No guarantees. Was that all you wanted?"

His jaw clenched for a brief second, sending the muscle in his cheek jumping once more. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then shook his head and smiled.

Taylor nearly stumbled back from the force of that smile, all warm and sexy and too damn gorgeous for his own good. No man should have a smile like that. It was dangerous. It should be illegal.

The smile grew wider as he leaned closer, those startling eyes focused solely on her.

"No, that wasn't it." He tilted his head, his full mouth coming dangerously close to hers as his voice lowered, wrapping around her with a seductive heat that sent tingles of awareness dancing across her flesh.

Taylor wanted to step back, to put distance between them—between herself and that dangerously low, sexy voice. But she couldn't move, not when those deep blue eyes held her in place.

Not even when he spoke again, his words sending tiny thrills shooting through her.

"I have a proposition for you."