Page 14 of Sin Bin

“Let me give you some water while you wait,” I murmur, lifting the vase. My elbow hikes up as I lean forward, cutting short when it hitsflesh.

There’s a malegrunt.

A grittycurse.

Oh,no.

I whip around to apologize, only to be stilled by strong, masculinefingers.

“Give me a second,” the voice growls, and instant awareness hits me. I know that voice waytoowell.

Andre.

Please, for the love of all things holy, someone just end mymisery.

“Oh, my God,” the blonde exclaims, her eyes landing on the NHL’s best enforcer behind me. “Areyouokay?”

With Andre’s fingers still locked around my elbow, and my back to his chest, our little position is starting to feel way too familiar. “I’m fine,” he says between grittedteeth.

“I’m pretty sure she nailed youinthe—”

“Suzanne.”

The blonde clamps her mouth shut, sitting back primly in her seat as she shoots daggers in my direction. Like this is my fault. And, yes,theoreticallyI did potentially elbow him in the crown jewels, but I certainly didn’t ask for him to swoop up behind me, all stealthy,ninja-like.

With the vase of water still clutched in my hand, I decide there’s no other recourse. “Andre,” I say evenly, “would you please let goofme?”

“Zoe?”

His hand drops from my arm like I’ve combustedintofire.

I turn around, water vase clutched tightly. The scowl on his face is the stuff of legends, but beneath the frown, beneath all that bad attitude, I sense his shock at finding me here. And, boy, the glint of surprise in his black eyes warms meconsiderably.

Andre Beaumont is not the sort of man that one frequently one-ups, and the fact that I’ve managed to do so . . . . Yeah, it feels good. Mentally I give myself a pat ontheback.

I glance down to where his big hand is pressed flat against his stomach. “Did I get you where it hurts?” I ask with a downward tilt ofmychin.

The shock evaporates from his expression like a wisp of smoke, and the hard, impenetrable glare shifts back into place. “Are you hoping that you did?” he asksgruffly.

My shoulders lift in a lazy shrug. “Wrong place,wrongtime.”

Dark eyes narrow on my face. “Is thatadig?”

“On the fact that you stood me up today and didn’t bother to respond to any of my calls or text messages?” I offer another shrug, noting the way that each time I do so, his eyes narrow further. Any more of that and he’ll be staring out at me through mere slits. The part of me that’s still bitter about everything encourages me to do just that, to push him over the ledge and see what happens. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he reiteratesstonily.

“Depends on whether you actually had a good reason for not showing, like saving homeless puppies or volunteering at anelderlyhome.”

His arms cross over his burly chest. This time, he isn’t wearing a T-shirt, and I can’t stop myself from taking in my fill. Black button-down, open at the neck to reveal the tan column of his throat; matching black slacks that do nothing to hide his muscular thighs. He clears his throat and it’s enough for me to blink up athisface.

He’s totally caught me staring, but I refuse to cower. In the end, he blows out a frustrated breath. “Maybe I was saving puppiesandvolunteering. Maybe I thought that our scheduled meeting could berescheduled.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” I tell him with a jovial pat-pat to his hard chest, “We havethirtydays to make sure that all goes as planned.” A tick starts in his jaw and I stifle a victorious grin. “Now, we don’t want to leave your date hanging.” I shoo him into the booth with my free hand. “Let’s try the water thing again,shallwe?”

While Andre stews in muteness, his expression one that can only be filed under “pissed-off man,” his date flits her hands over his chest and down toward his . . . waist. I assume it’s his waist, but maybe she’s trying for something else under the table. Andre has obviously made it abundantly clear that public places don’t deter him in the slightest when it comestosex.

But he does surprise me when he captures her wrists and presses her hands to thetabletop.

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