I’ve decided to go the romantic route with Holly. I haven’t spoken to her since our text exchange in New York. I’m a little offended she didn’t at least check in to make sure I was okay after my injury, though I did see she was posting Get Well messages from fans and giving Twitter updates on my condition. So obviously she’s been following my recovery. Which gives me hope.

I decide to sneak in before the office opens for the morning, on my way to the gym. I figure I’ll just leave these flowers for her, and let the ball stay in her court. But just as I sneak in the back way, past Bud’s office, Fiona Starling comes striding toward me.

Today, she’s in a black blouse with a deep V-neck and a knee-length pencil skirt. She has on very high heels to accentuate her long legs. Fiona is an attractive woman, older than me but certainly very put-together. She’s always been a little cold for my taste. I don’t know her well because she just doesn’t strike me as all that interesting. I envision her as a bit of a cold fish in bed.

Today, though, she gives me a cat’s smile, all full of mischief. I’m immediately taken aback.

“Up early today, are we?” she asks. “Must be feeling better?”

“Yep. Back at the gym for the first time in a week. Looking forward to it. Feeling pent up.”

She looks me up and down. The expression on her face is hungry and it weirds me out.

“Pent up, huh?” she asks. “That’s a terrible feeling.”

“Uh-huh,” I answer, confused. What the hell is happening right now?

“Who are the flowers for?” she asks.

“For a friend who deserves them.”

“Well, this friend must be very special indeed, to get your attention,” Fiona says.

I bite the inside of my lip. “Look, Fiona, I know you’re a stickler on the no-fraternization policy. I assure you nothing is happening with me and my friend. She’s been a total pro.”

“Your friend, meaning Holly,” she says flatly. She looks like she swallowed a lemon.

“Holly,” I confirm. “She’s not interested in me. We’re just friends.”

She steps closer to me, so now we’re nearly chest-to-chest. She’s a tall woman, I just realized.

“I’d love to visit with you sometime,” she says, her voice lower than usual. “Privately. To discuss that fraternization policy.”

A quick drop of the eyes confirms her nipples are rock hard beneath that thin top. Oh shit. The married and seemingly uptight Fiona Starling is coming onto me. WTF?

I step back just slightly. “Well, I’m not sure what there is to discuss,” I say. I’m certain you’ve got good reasoning for it. And I’m sure it applies to all employees, even management.”

She squares her shoulders and looks over her shoulder, as if she’s worried someone has seen this little exchange. Then she gives a nod and says, “Well, I will hope to see you soon. I’d love to pick your brain since you’re clearly interested in what the media team is doing here.”

“Yeah, sure, I’m always happy to help promote the team.”

She looks around again and says something about needing to prep for a meeting. I say goodbye and she walks away, leaving me flummoxed in the hallway, wondering when the hell Fiona decided she wanted to come onto me. That’s new. And strange. I think I need a wash off now.

Shake it off. Leave the flowers for Holly. Get on with the day.

Of course, my plan to drop the flowers and run is thwarted again because overachiever Holly is already at her cubicle when I come around the corner. She looks up as I approach, and she can’t hide the smile spreading across her face. Goddamn. It’s like the sun came out. A beautiful thing just got more beautiful.

“Good morning, Miss Laurent.” I hold out the flowers. “These are for you. My apology for being a loser.”

“You’re not a loser,” she says, taking the proffered flowers and setting them on her desk. “You’re a winner. Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you. Slightly strained tendon in my knee. Concussion in the old noggin. All cleared for play, though.”

“That was a brutal hit you took,” she says, frowning. It’s cute. Why is every face she makes so cute? “I felt a little sick watching it.”

“It was a bloody dirty move, is what it was,” I say.

“Georg thought so too. He defended your honor afterward.”

I grin. “I know. I saw the footage.”

“Kazochev is hotter than ever,” she says. “People ship you two even more after that.”

“Well, he’s not my type,” I say. “Too hairy.”

She laughs out loud. “I don’t think I believe you have a type, Evan, I believe your type is all.”

“Oh,” I say, putting my hand to my chest. “You wound me. I do want to apologize for that picture again. I really wasn’t out to meet anyone. She asked for a selfie and put my hand there.”

Holly looks skeptical. “Whatever, no need to apologize. You don’t answer to me, Evan.”

“But I need you to know,” I insist, “I get waylaid like this all the time. Women think they own me, think I’ll screw anything that moves. And when I was younger, maybe I was partial to it.”

“When you were younger, like last year?” she asks with a smirk. “Look, your sex life is your business. It’s not for me to judge.”

“Well,” I say, leaning closer. “I wish it was.”

Her eyes go wide.

“Look, Holly, I’d love a chance with you. To get to know you. I don’t just want—I mean, I want to, but not just that. Am I making any sense? I feel like a stammering teenager.”

I wipe my forehead and make an exaggerated face. She giggles.

“You make me nervous and it’s very unusual, because I rarely get nervous,” I admit.

“Well, I guess I kind of feel the same,” she says, suddenly blushing and acting shy. She looks at her shoes. She’s fucking gorgeous.

“Will you think about it?” I ask. “We have a day off in Anaheim. Maybe we could go sight-seeing? Purely platonic. Unless…it isn’t.”

“I’ll think about it,” she says. She tilts her head. “Can I change the subject for a second?”

“Sure.”

“I keep hearing about All-Star voting,” she says. “Is that a goal of yours? To get voted onto the All-Star Team?

I nod. “It is. Georg too. And I want team votes for Captain once Chalamet retires.”

“Cool,” she says. “I’m working on some new contests and polls. I can throw in some promotion for fans to vote on All-Stars. I’ll probably have to promote our top scorers. Not sure if Fiona will let me focus on just you.”

“Oh, she might,” I say. I don’t want to out Fiona for her odd little innuendo-infused hallway meeting this morning, but I feel fairly certain about her being okay with promoting me anywhere, anytime.

“She’s weird about stuff,” Holly says. “I’ll run it past her, though.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, then. I pull it out and take a look. It’s a text from Kacey King. “Sorry,” I say. “Give me a second?”

Holly nods. “I need to get to work anyway, no worries.”

I look down and roll my eyes at the very first line.

I look up and see Holly is back at her desk, studying some kind of analytics on her laptop. I take the few steps and look over her shoulder, putting my hands on the back of her chair. Even from here, I can smell her shampoo. It smells like mint. She smells like food, oh my god. Not perfume or flowers or some shit. She smells good enough to eat. Sweet and fresh. I suppress a groan. My cock even twitches in my pants, which is horrifyingly teenager of me. What is it about this woman who makes me so crazy like this?

“What’s all this?” I ask, very close to her ear.

She jumps and lets out a little yelp. I laugh out loud. “Sorry, darlin’,” I say. “I didn’t think you were actually engrossed in all that mumbo jumbo. I thought you were just pretending to ignore me.”

She turns and looks at me, her cute nose all wrinkled. “Contrary to popular belief, I do not sit around thinking about Evan Kazmeirowicz all day long. I do actually have a job to do.”

“And you’re quite good at it,” I say, leaning in. I whisper, “But I think you’re lying about the first part, because I sure as hell think about you all day.”

There is great satisfaction in watching the subtle ways a woman shows she is aroused. The slight intake of breath. The flush on her cheeks, and lower. The outline of hard nipples appearing beneath her shirt. The way she squeezes her legs together.

“Anaheim?” I ask again, softly so only she can hear it.

She swallows and nods.

After a quick look around to make sure no one was around to catch me, I lean in and give her a quick peck on the cheek. “You won’t regret it,” I say, every word a promise.

I’m out of there before I can get accosted by Fiona again, and on a call to Scott to ask if I can get out of this interview with Kacey.

“Fiona clear it?” he asks. I can hear the whir of a machine in the background.

“Are you walking on a treadmill?”

“Got a treadmill desk,” he says. “I was getting too fat sitting on my ass all day.”

“You run more than anyone I know,” I say. “I find it hard to believe you sit more than ten minutes a day.”

“Whatever. Take the interview. Fiona’s the boss on media matters, and people are curious if you’ll be in prime shape for this run of games. I mean, shit, you only missed two games and you got your clock cleaned. You actually sure you’re good to go, man?”

“I’m good,” I say. I listened to doc’s orders for seven days. I’ve worked out, been on the ice. I feel good. No worries.”

“Okay, well, let me call Kacey and set up the interview. We’ll make sure it’s short, sweet, and gets you focused on the ice in no time.”

I groan in response.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. “You’ve never had an issue with media before.”

“Kacey’s just…” I groan again.

“She wants to fuck you. Again. Big deal. Just do what you gotta do,” he says.

“I feel personally victimized by that statement. Are you suggesting I let her have her way with me?”

“Whatever,” he says. “She gives you good press. Good press means All-Star votes. Think of it that way.”

“I won’t fuck her,” I say, “but I’ll do the interview.”

“Of course you will,” he says. “I’ll set it up. Call you back with the details.”

I shake my head and hang up. Fine. I’ll do the stupid interview. But only because I know I’ve got a date with Holly on the horizon.