Page 16 of Sin Bin

As his gaze locked with hers, everything inside her went completely haywire, and all she could do was stare up at him.

Thick, dark brows slashed over the wickedest bedroom eyes she’d ever seen. Dark as espresso, heavy lidded and rimmed with long black lashes. His high cheekbones looked as if they’d been chiseled out of stone. Several days of beard growth covered his square jaw and framed sinfully full lips, the kind of lips that made a woman’s mind wander where it shouldn’t. His hair was short and black, and his light olive skin hinted at Latin origins.

Good Lord, he was gorgeous.

She watched his eyes slide over her face with lazy appreciation. Then suddenly they widened, recognition flaring in the endless dark depths.

“Jupiter?”

Her heart tripped over itself. No one had called her Jupiter in years. In fact, Logan Brassard was the only person who’d ever called her that.

He stared down at her as if he were seeing a ghost. “Holy shit,” he whispered incredulously. “It is you!”

She smiled shyly at him. “Hey, Lunkhead.”

He blinked, stared some more. Then he surprised her by suddenly picking her up and swinging her around, laughing out loud as he did. The intoxicating sound cascaded over her, snaking between her thighs and kicking her pulse into double time before he set her down, a broad grin splitting his face.

He was even taller than he’d looked on the ice. Six feet four inches of badass in a navy bespoke suit that hugged his enormous shoulders and strong thighs. He was packing some serious muscle inside the sleeves of his suit jacket. She was insanely tempted to grab one of his bulging biceps and give it a good squeeze.

“I’ll be damned.” His dark eyes traveled the length of her, a thorough perusal that made her feel like a million tiny electric shocks were licking at her skin.

He grinned, flashing beautiful white teeth. “Look at you all grown up and gorgeous.”

She laughed as her heartbeat fluttered. The fluttering was kind of appalling because she knew she wasn’t gorgeous. Pretty? Sure. But not gorgeous.

“Looks like you’ve done some growing up yourself,” she quipped teasingly. “You were always taller than me, Logan, but this is ridiculous.”

He gave a lazy chuckle.

Even in her spike-heeled boots, she only came up to the middle of his chest. His shoulders were so broad they blocked out the light shining from above. The sheer bulk of him made her feel more petite than ever.

It occurred to her that he was still holding her upper arms. She could feel the heat of his big hands through her leather jacket. And he smelled amazing. Shower-fresh with a spicy hint of aftershave or cologne.

He was staring down at her like he still couldn’t believe she was here. “What’re you doing in Denver?”

“Interviewing for a job.”

“Yeah? What do you do?”

“I’m a social worker. Well, I used to be.”

His brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“I got laid off six months ago. So I’ve been temping until I find another full-time job.”

“Damn. Sorry to hear that.” His thumbs rubbed her arms, setting off a flurry of tingles that started in her stomach and spiraled down to her toes. “Who are you interviewing with?”

Her reply was interrupted by the sound of approaching male voices. Logan looked over her head. When he saw who was coming down the corridor, a muscle tensed in his jaw.

Before Meadow could turn around, they were joined by three of his teammates. Hunter Duchene, Reid Holden and Viggo Sandström were even hotter up close. And bigger. Much bigger. Next to all of them—Logan included—she felt positively Lilliputian. Like she’d unwittingly wandered into a land inhabited by giants. Brioni-wearing, hockey-playing, sexy-as-sin giants.

“Well, well, well,” Reid drawled sardonically. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Don’t start,” Logan muttered.

“Landrieu’s looking for you,” Viggo informed him. “You’d better get in there and do some world-class schmoozing. You know these meet-and-greets are part of the deal.”

Logan glanced darkly toward the lounge. He looked like he’d rather wrestle a thousand-pound alligator than step foot inside the party.

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