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Standing at his locker, he pulled on street clothes. Kyle Murphy plowed through the doors while Axel tied his shoes.
Kyle was a forward on the team and also Axel’s foster brother. The Murphy family had facilitated Axel’s move to the U.S. the summer before his senior year in high school. Kyle and Axel had attended Boston College together before moving to the pros. But while Kyle had been picked up by the Boston NHL team, Axel had bounced around the league before moving to Kyle’s team last fall. Their combined stats had made them appealing to Nico Cesare as the coach strategized a run at the Stanley Cup, and he’d signed them as a package deal to the Phantoms just before the trade deadline.
“Hey, bro.” Kyle bumped Axel’s fist with his knuckles before moving to his own locker. “Been simmering in the hot tub?”
“No.” He figured shooting the breeze with Kyle was a legit way to waste a few more minutes before he had to meet Jennifer again. Hopefully it would be enough time to get his head on straight. “I’m showing the filmmaker around the facility.”
He hadn’t been kidding about keeping his enemies close. If the woman was going to be filming the Phantoms, he wanted to be sure he knew where she was at all times so he was never caught off guard.
“More power to you, man. You always did go for the redheads.”
Auburn hair was the least of Jennifer’s attractions as far as he was concerned. Sure she had sexy, shoulder-length red curls. Vivid green eyes. Cute-as-hell freckles and a build so willowy he could probably wrap his arms around her a few times. But that stuff was window dressing for the spark inside her, a spark that had flared from the moment she stepped out from behind the post to greet him.
She’d been unashamed to eavesdrop, had called him on his brute behavior without making him feel like a heel, and then she’d invited him to show her around. Keeping up with a woman like that would require more attention than Axel could spare, frankly. But damn. He envied the guy who got the chance to try.
“So you’ve met her?” Axel tied his shoe, curious what Kyle thought of Jennifer.
“Just a few minutes ago. She was trying to get up into the rafters to see what kind of wide-range camera angles she can snag from overhead.”
“You’re kidding.” Axel slammed the locker shut. “She’s here for less than a day and she’s climbing the walls?”
“Actually, she was trying to con a janitor into bringing her a ladder.”
“Great. She’ll probably sue us when she breaks her neck.” Tossing his towel in a laundry bin, he jogged toward the door. “Why the hell doesn’t Nico assign someone to guard her?”
“Didn’t you say you’re supposed to be escorting her around?” Kyle called after him. “Sounds like that job lands in your lap, bro.”
And wasn’t that an image he didn’t need in his head?
Axel plowed through the double doors, past the tunnel leading to the ice, toward the viewing area for visitors. At first, he didn’t see anyone. The morning session had been closed to the public and most of the players were long gone by now.
He shouldn’t have been surprised to hear her voice echo from above his head.
“Up here!” she called, lying prone on a steel girder that was part of the open web truss system holding up the clear glass arena ceiling. She gave a jaunty little wave over her head, her face hidden behind a medium-size camera with a big lens.
“You go to great lengths to hide from me,” he observed drily.
“You can’t say that when I announced myself right away this time.”
“Do you have any idea the kind of insurance liability you pose right now?” How had she gotten up that high? “Weren’t you supposed to at least wait for a ladder?”
“Your maintenance staff was concerned about the insurance risk, too. Surprising when you have a doctor and dentist on call for players who break bones every day.” The flash from her camera went off and she fiddled with the settings. One red canvas sneaker dangled from fifteen feet up, a hint of ankle visible at the hem of her jeans.
“I’ll make sure you have a ladder for the trip down. Can you sit tight while I find one?”
“No need.” She stuffed her camera into a nylon bag that hung from her wrist. “The descent is bound to be easier than the climb up.”
His heart nearly stopped when he saw her swing down to a lower girder. Positioning himself directly underneath her, he was too busy worrying she’d break her leg to notice the view straight up her colorful Bohemian blouse. Much.
“For someone in the directing business, you sure don’t take direction well, do you?” He reached up to spot her, his hand almost touching her leg as she scrambled over the side of the girder.
“Why do you think I stay behind the camera?” Lowering herself with her arms, she hung suspended from the beam, her knees within touching range now.
No one else was around. He’d have to step in and help. Unwilling to risk her falling, Axel wound his arms around her lower legs and squeezed her tight.
“Let go,” he ordered, certain he had her. He valiantly did not look up her blouse.
At least not at first … Creamy breasts molded by turquoise lace proved too tempting.
“I don’t want to fall on you,” she protested, peering down the length of her body at him.
“You won’t fall,” he assured her, liking the feel of her far too well for a man who intended to send her packing. A man who planned to help her see why this documentary was a very bad idea. “I’ve got you.”
The moment stretched out as they eyed one another and Axel slowly became aware of the scent she wore. The fragrance was subtle and sweet and one he knew well from childhood summers spent in the country.
The fiery redhead smelled like lilies of the valley.
The scent drifted all around him as she let go, giving him her weight. He probably held on to her a second too long, savoring the soft feel of a woman in his arms. With an effort, he tried to recall that the sexy, fragrant female of the turquoise-colored lingerie was an enemy who required monitoring. At the moment, he could only think about how good it was going to feel to lower her body down the length of his.
“Um.” She put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. The camera on a strap at her wrist whacked him in the arm as it followed the movement of her hand. “Axel? Maybe you should …”
She glanced meaningfully at the floor.
He would have preferred to settle her on a bed. A couch. Hell, a futon would be fine with him. But since they were in the middle of the arena seating around the Phantoms’ practice rink, he dropped her lightly on her feet, copping only a minimal feel.
How the hell would he chase her away from this film series when he couldn’t even keep his hands off her? He needed to reassess his options sometime when he didn’t have hints of her scent clinging to his clothes.
“Sorry.” He resisted the urge to straighten her blouse where it had ridden up above the waistband of her jeans. “You ready for the nickel tour?”
Her hand smoothed the fabric of her bright purple-and-teal top, covering the sliver of skin he’d spied at her midriff.
“I’ve been ready and waiting.” She gestured expansively to the facility, her cheeks a little flushed. “Show me everything.”
Axel had been ducking opportunities left and right, determined to keep this conversation focused on the job she was here to do. But honestly, how could he walk away from that one?
“Tempting as that might be, I think we’d better start with something more manageable.” Stalking away from the seats, he gestured for her to follow. “The rink’s chiller system, maybe. I’m going to need some cooling down.”
3
AS THEY PASSED a wall of life-size photos of current Phantoms’ players, Jennifer hurried to keep up with her reluctant tour guide. He seemed determined to complete the excursion around the training facility in record time. He’d shown her the state-of-the-art exercise and weight rooms with little commentary, occasionally flipping light switches and nodding to the last few personnel in the building as they went home for the day. Could he make it any clearer that he didn’t want to be around her?
His behavior was a puzzle since she knew damn well he was attracted. The heat between them when he’d plucked her from the steel girders had sent her into a full-on meltdown, and she wasn’t a woman whose head turned easily. He’d even said he needed a chance to cool down when he finally released her. So he must have been overheated, too.
And resenting it, apparently.
Frustrated with him, with herself and with the way the day was going, she stopped in front of a poster of the team’s playmaker, Kyle Murphy. She needed to get to the bottom of this before she moved on. She couldn’t scout filming locations for the documentary series until she resolved the Axel dilemma.
“Axel?”
He’d outpaced her by about four miles down the long corridor. Well, at least twenty feet. He turned now, and peered back at her in the semidark vacated part of the building.
“Did I miss something?” His voice echoed a bit in the wide hall with decorative concrete floors polished to a high shine.
“Yes.”
She stared him down, willing him to come closer and not be so difficult. For some reason, she felt that if she could win him over to her cause, she could make this film project a success.
“Care to clue me in?” he said finally, not budging.
“Why are you trying to get rid of me?”
Even from twenty feet away, she could see the moment of guilt in his expression. And, while it wasn’t necessarily pleasant to have her suspicion confirmed, she appreciated that he had the grace to appear abashed over the fact.
“Am I going too fast?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t answer the question. Why are you trying to set a new land speed record?” She wished she had her Nikon in hand now, partially because it felt awkward to ask tough questions with no barrier between her and her subject.
Also because the camera would love this man.
She wanted to linger over the harsh angles of his face with her naked eye. Zoom in on the unusual scar that had to be the outline of a hockey puck under one cheek. Pan out for a long shot of his body to appreciate the way he dwarfed everything around him.
He really did clean up well. His brown hair was shorter than his Viking ancestors’, but he had the strong bone structure, which highlighted his magnetic blue eyes. Even without the hockey pads, his physique was extraordinary, a testament to the hours of work in the gym and on the ice. Constant skating, apparently, yielded a truly spectacular butt. She’d been following him around long enough to become familiar with the way the man filled out a pair of jeans.
Now he came toward her slowly, his feet erasing the space between them.
“Maybe I don’t like your idea for this movie.”
“TV documentary series,” she corrected automatically. “I gathered as much when you said that private lives don’t belong in a film about a sport.”
He paused a foot away from her. Looming.
“So focus on the training. The year-round preparation that goes into playing at this level. Why do you need to manufacture personal lives for athletes who dedicate all their time to hockey?” He leaned closer, as if he could impose his wishes on her through sheer will.
She sucked in a steadying breath and could almost taste the soap he’d used, the warm, clean scent of him filling her lungs and giving her nerve endings a private thrill. Her heart rate tripped into a staccato beat.
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper given his proximity and her breathlessness.
“Of course not.” He stepped back a bit, though. “Just giving you my opinion. You asked, you know.”
“Yes, but when you proclaim it while hovering over me like that, I feel like you’re trying to eclipse me with your bigger presence.”
“I am the team enforcer,” he informed her, lowering his brows in a semiconvincing menace while flexing his arms. His chest. Actually, everything seemed to tighten and bulge at once.
“Which means … what? You’re going to duke it out with me over this film?” She couldn’t help a shiver of awareness at the he-man muscle show, perhaps a leftover genetic reflex from the days when women were driven to seek out strong men for protection’s sake.
Because surely she wasn’t the kind of woman to be swayed by something so earthy?
“Probably not,” he admitted, his expression clearing as his gaze did a slow sweep of her. “But as the Phantoms’ newly imported enforcer, my role is to be on the alert for threats to my teammates.”
“And you’ve decided I’m the threat?”
“Definitely.” His eyes zeroed in on her lips and her mouth went dry.
She shook her head, trying to deny it, but the movement felt slow. Leaden. Almost as if she didn’t want to say no to whatever it was they were talking about—she’d forgotten in the hypnotic lure of his proximity.
“Say what you want,” Axel said, coming closer again, within easy touching distance. “That look in your eyes right now is threatening the hell out of me. You might not know it, but I’m in big-time fight-or-flight mode this very minute standing next to you.”
Any possibility of breathing was gone. She’d probably start hyperventilating at any moment. Beside her, his chest rose and fell as if he was engaged in battle.
“That’s ironic,” she managed finally, her voice sounding far away and not like her own. “Because I can’t seem to move.”
His eyes widened a fraction before he narrowed his gaze. That battle he’d been waging? She suspected he’d decided the outcome.
“I tried to outrun you,” he reminded her, his voice a soft, minty breath. “You saw me try to avoid this.”
The gentle words chipped away at her defenses, surprising her with the note of stark honesty. She hadn’t seen where this was headed, but apparently he had.
The thought evaporated along with the rest of her brain waves when Axel stepped even closer, crowding her.
“I … um …” She wrestled with a sudden urge to fling her arms around his neck and kiss him until he was as breathless as she felt. “Maybe avoidance was a smarter policy than I gave it credit for.”
“You called. I came.” His last step backed her neatly into the wall.
Her heart beat faster. She swallowed hard.
“Sometimes I don’t know what’s best for me,” she managed, her throat dry as she became intensely aware of his chest mere inches from hers.
“That became apparent when you climbed the rafters.” He lifted a hand and she held her breath, wondering if he would hold her steady for the kiss she foolishly craved.
Instead, his fingers skimmed beneath her hair to encircle the back of her neck, one thumb resting on the pulse point at the base of her throat. Her neck had never been much of an erogenous zone, but the feel of his thumb softly stroking there struck her as more erotic than full-blown intimate encounters she’d had before.
She wasn’t sure if that spoke to how lacking her previous sensual experiences were or what talented hands Axel possessed. Either way, she soaked up the sensation and tried not to arch into him for more.
“Axel,” she murmured against the glide of his fingertips along her throat, her sensitive skin registering every callus.
“Mmm?” He never paused the seductive caress.
The rhythm of the touch hypnotized her, making her long to feel it all over her body. How could a simple stroke feel so mind-numbingly good?
Steeling herself, she tried to remember all the reasons she shouldn’t be fraternizing with someone she’d be filming. She was a professional, damn it.
“This may be a bad idea,” she warned, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his soft cotton button-down.
Sweet, merciful heaven, when had she allowed herself to touch him back?
“There’s no maybe about it,” he told her, lowering his head and inhaling a deep breath. “This will only lead to complications.”
BREATHING IN HER SUBTLE floral scent, Axel told himself to let go of Jennifer.
He needed to pry his fingers off, one by one, and walk away from the insanity. He had her pinned between the wall and the most insistent hard-on of his life, for Chris-sakes. This was totally out of line. Unacceptable.
And why the hell couldn’t some stray maintenance worker show up right about now to startle them apart? He didn’t think anything else—besides a cattle prod—would do the trick.
“I didn’t see this coming,” she confided, her voice kind of soft and wonder-filled in a way that only wound him up more. “Not for a second.”
He kept his head down, eyes on the floor, not ready to see her lips all soft and ready for his kiss. Not ready to see her eyes filled with that hazy, unfocused gaze that meant she was thinking about sex as much as he was.
“No? That’s funny because I felt it like a damn freight train headed my way the moment you asked me to show you around.”
She stiffened slightly, the subtle shift of her body a movement that inflicted a unique brand of torment on him when he knew this little interlude was going nowhere. At least not today.
“I hope you didn’t think I was coming on to you.” She managed to sound honest-to-God uptight about it even though her fingers still clutched the placket of his shirt.
“Of course not.” He gritted out a semblance of a polite smile as he backed up a step and her hands fell away. “I can see you’re not attracted to me in the least.”
“Well!” she huffed, crossing her arms in such a way that drew the fabric of her blouse tight across her breasts. “I don’t mean that I’m not attracted now. I just meant I wasn’t thinking about any such thing back when I asked for the tour.”
Following the line of his gaze, she uncrossed her arms. Straightened her blouse. Lifted her chin.
Damn, but he wanted to take her home and tease her some more. Undress her slowly and put that note of awe and wonder back in her voice. But that was not in the plan. He should be chasing her away from the team and most particularly him, not lingering in darkened hallways with her.
“Fine. But now you see where this is headed and that it’s a bad idea. Can we agree it would be best for all parties if the tour ends here?” He needed to regroup someplace else, somewhere far from the scent of lilies of the valley.
He hadn’t even seen those damn flowers in over ten years, let alone smelled them. How strange that meeting her called up the few rare good memories he had of his childhood home, especially since her project had the potential to bring all the worst ones back to life.
“Agreed.” She gave a tight nod. “Thank you for showing me around.”
“You’re welcome.”
He waited for her to storm off in a display of feminine outrage. Stomp down the hall in a huff, maybe. Or sashay away with a little extra hip swing to remind him of what he was missing.
He should have remembered she wasn’t a conventional female. She simply frowned, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. She appeared deep in thought, her gaze focused somewhere above his head.
“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” he prompted in what he considered an inspired moment of chivalrous manners.
His foster mom, Mrs. Murphy, would be proud.
“No, thank you.” Her face cleared and she pointed to the wall behind him, where the life-size posters of Phantoms players loomed. “As long as the tour is over, maybe you can tell me a little about your teammates.”
And he fought the urge to roll his eyes—he couldn’t believe she’d changed gears so quickly when he was still wrestling a massive case of sexual frustration.
“No.” He shook his head, needing to be very clear with her. “I can’t. Spending time with you is not a good idea for me, whether it’s giving you a tour or telling you about the guys. I’m having a career season, Jennifer—”
“Jen. Call me Jen.” Not even looking at him, she moved closer to the posters of the players, eyes narrowing to read the text beside Kyle’s picture.
“Jen.” He angled his body between her and the write-up, needing to make sure she got the message. “It’s important to me to maintain the momentum I’ve got going while we finish up the regular season. Routine is everything when you’re maintaining a streak. I just can’t—”
“Am I interfering with your routine?” She peered around as if mystified about what else he’d be doing if not talking to her.
“This whole TV circus is messing up my routine and I only just found out about it.” He realized he’d maneuvered close to her again when his body started humming as if he had metal under his skin and she was an industrial-strength magnet.
“Okay, I get it. You want nothing to do with me.” Searching around in her purse, she fished out a piece of paper and a pencil. “Can you at least tell me who you would recommend I talk to? Is there anyone on the team who might have a few minutes to spare to give me some insights on the Phantoms?”
Pencil poised, she looked at him expectantly. Here was his out. He could simply give her the name of one of the other guys and someone else could escort her around the rest of the training facility. Their game arena downtown. Someone else could talk to her and catch her when she jumped down from swinging on the girders.
Thinking about how much one of the other guys might like that—and how much he would hate every second of witnessing it—he found he couldn’t come up with a name for her.
“How about I call Leandre Archambault?” she prompted, pointing to his teammate’s photo on the wall.
Her pencil flew across the paper until he caught it. Halted it. Gripped the damn thing so hard he accidentally snapped it in two. Leandre was the worst ladies’ man on the team and he had no intention of letting him anywhere near Jennifer.
“No.” He couldn’t walk away. Besides, he was better off talking to her behind the scenes, steering her away from him and toward other guys for filming purposes. If she had to film them, Axel would make sure her camera was focused on anyone but him. “I have time to talk to you.”
“What about your routine?” One eyebrow quirked, but she didn’t seem to be gloating over his inability to cut her loose. If anything, she appeared genuinely interested.
“I’ll find a way to make it work.” That way he could keep an eye on her. Damn it, he’d known that would be best all along. But the encounter in the hall had rocked him so much he’d second-guessed the plan. “Let’s start tomorrow, though. Give us time to regroup.”
She nodded.
“Great. And because I appreciate it so much, I’m going to promise you that I will keep my hands to myself at all times.” She held up her hands for him to see and wiggled the fingers for good measure. “See? You’re safe with me.”
His skin reacted as surely as if she’d skimmed that touch along his bare back. His naked abs.
Desire slammed him like a body check to the boards.
“Right.” He waved her away from the display toward the conference room so she could gather her stuff. “Too bad it’s not you I’m worried about.”
4
“IS IT TRUE YOU’RE MAKING a movie about the Phantoms?”
The speaker squatted into Jennifer’s vision as she sat in the practice rink’s viewing seats at 10:00 a.m. the next morning. While the players ran a slapshot drill out on the ice, Jennifer worked at her laptop, making notes to ask Axel. Well, she tried to work on her laptop.
The hopeful young face blinking up at her from the row of seats below prevented her from concentrating. The lithe brunette in a knit beret clutched a paper coffee cup in both hands, hovering over the steam drifting up like a nebulizer while the players lofted puck after puck at their backup goalie.
“Not a movie. A documentary series.” Jennifer tried to smile politely, wishing she’d known that today’s morning skate was open to the public.
She would have given her cameraman the day off. Bryce’s equipment attracted attention and questions.