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  Outside the office, a couple of the team higher-ups walked by and Axel gave them a wave. The documentary series had brought in all the big brass, who were excited at the idea of more ticket sales in their future.

  “What do you mean?” Jen frowned, and for the first time since he’d seen her today, she didn’t look quite so tense.

  “I mean she has a hell of a story, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me. I, on the other hand, don’t have a story. Something I’ve already made damn clear to you.”

  “Right.” She chewed on her lip, an auburn wave snaking forward to land against her cheek as she looked down. “The trouble is, I don’t have a romantic story line. I have a team full of hot athletes, and every one of you is either married, in a committed relationship or too married to the game to think about women.”

  Ha. Did she really believe that he wasn’t thinking about her right now? He’d be lucky to have his head in the game by tomorrow with memories of touching her playing over and over in his brain. Even now, he wanted to get closer to see if he could catch that scent of hers that drove him crazy.

  “So follow around one of the guys with a girlfriend. Done deal.” Why couldn’t she film Kyle and Marissa, the matchmaker his brother had fallen for who now occupied all his free time?

  “And do I chronicle a happy relationship with no conflict that will put viewers to sleep? Or a relationship on the rocks—and there’s no lack of those, according to preliminary research—and really piss off one of your teammates by showcasing his marital problems to the world?”

  “Point taken.” More than one guy was going through a messy divorce. Some guys’ marriages broke up because their wives messed around while the team was out of town.

  Then there were the guys who did the messing around themselves. Ax tried to stay out of stuff like that, but he’d seen enough in his short time with the Phantoms to know there were a few team Casanovas.

  “So you see my dilemma.” Idly, she ran a fingertip up a stack of paperwork piled on one corner of the desk. Behind her, an open laptop flashed her production company’s logo for a screen saver.

  “I wonder where you got all your research.” He was surprised at the twinge of jealousy that spiked for whoever had gotten to fill her in on the team dynamics last night. “I thought I was the go-to guy for the inside information.”

  “A good journalist never reveals her sources.” She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

  “Was he as entertaining as me?”

  She studied her nails—filed short but painted with blue and purple stripes.

  “Let’s just say the anonymous party didn’t try to scare me off with the scent of sweat and too much testosterone.”

  “In other words, you missed me.” His testosterone levels seemed to stir when drawn into conversation. He might have taken a step closer to her, too, because he caught a hint of her perfume.

  “I was still stinging from your rejection, so you can hardly hold it against me if I was driven into someone else’s arms.” Glancing up from her nails, she gave him a grin that managed to be wicked and innocent at the same time.

  And even knowing that she was messing with him didn’t stop a surge of possessiveness he had no business feeling.

  “Then I hope you’re prepared to start naming names before I have to take out my teammates one by one.”

  “Hmm. I’d hate for you to sacrifice your season to a jealous streak when I got the inside scoop from the head coach’s wife.”

  The ridiculous wave of relief he experienced was a very bad sign. Knowing that she flirted with him only made it tougher to hold back. This time, she was the one sidling closer.

  Good thing they’d left the office door open, right? Too bad the hallway outside had been quiet for a while. All the action was down in the players’ area where preparations were being made to transport all the team’s gear for the road trip.

  “Nico Cesare’s wife was your source?” He couldn’t resist tracing the cinnamon wave along her cheek, liking the way her eyelashes fluttered a little at his touch. “I’d be curious to know how exactly you ended up in her arms.”

  “It wasn’t easy, but after some girl talk and margaritas at a local bar, I gave her a hug as a thank-you for the lowdown on the team.”

  Axel cupped her chin. Tilted her face up. He really needed to kiss away that knowing smile. Remind her that he wasn’t the only one whose senses were keyed up and ready to fire into hyperdrive.

  Except he couldn’t do that.

  “Yesterday wasn’t a rejection,” he said instead, his voice gravelly and harsh, revealing too damn much.

  Her nod was the smallest of movements, but he felt it in his hand.

  “I know,” she whispered, her fingertips landing softly on the back of his hand, as if to hold him there.

  With all the time in the world to back off, Axel stared, transfixed, at her soft pink mouth. She would taste perfect. Feel perfect.

  And soon, that was all he could think about. How damn good she’d feel. How impossible it would be to keep away.

  When their lips met, he gave in to the inevitable, knowing that fighting this would be an uphill battle. He had to give some ground or he’d lose his mind. He wanted Jen too badly.

  The slide of her lips over his, the gentle press of her breasts against his chest, created a roar in his ears. A demand in his blood.

  He reached for the door, needing to shut out the world for just a minute. Not finding it with a blind swipe, he cocked open one eye enough to orient himself. But as his hand wrapped around the knob to swing the barrier closed, he found a whole lot more than a frosted glass office door.

  A handheld-camera operator stood in the hall, the red Record light blinking while the lens trained on them.

  5

  CAUGHT ON TAPE!

  It sounded like a tabloid headline, but it was Jennifer’s life thanks to the traitorous cameraman who’d turned the lens on her. Now, skin still tingling from Axel’s touch, Jennifer was back in the conference room on-site at the practice rink. After what had happened, she had no choice but to dial in for a teleconference with her boss, hoping like hell she couldn’t get fired for a lip-lock with a guy who was supposed to be her film subject.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” she told Axel, who’d gone stone-cold silent ever since the incident.

  Great. He was cool as ice while she’d seethed like molten lava ever since their kiss.

  The only emotion she’d seen from Axel was when he’d ripped the camera out of Steven’s hands, of course. Unfortunately, the problem couldn’t be solved by tearing film out of the back of the camera since the digital model streamed a live feed accessible to anyone on the crew. The footage all went directly to a live link.

  “I never guessed your crew would film you.” Axel paced around the long conference table where she had set up her laptop and notes. He couldn’t seem to sit, though, his body language restless and tense at the same time.

  At least he was still speaking to her, right?

  “I never thought they would, either. But to be honest, I haven’t worked with this particular crew before.” She hit the redial button on her laptop when her boss didn’t pick up.

  Axel stopped pacing.

  “Don’t tell me this is your first time directing.” He pinned her with his gaze, the air between them still crackling with awareness.

  “Of course not.” She adjusted the angle of her screen and her elbow hit a stack of tentative storyboard ideas. The papers spilled onto the floor in a messy sprawl. So much for trying to stifle her attraction to him. “I just usually tackle social rights subjects, things that demand an artistic approach with a photo crew that specializes in that kind of cinematography. This time, I was assigned a different crew to capture more commercial hooks.”

  She’d been on this job for two days and she already hated both words—commercial and hook. Oh, and of course she was utterly distracted by the hot hockey player prowling around the conference room.