Page 6 of Sin Bin

Andre and I . . . we aren’t strangers. Far from it, actually—I handled his PR for nearly a year. While we certainly butted heads on more than one occasion, I haven’t forgotten the way that our business relationship slowly converged with a personal one. Snack runs after a particularly long session with reporters. Jogging on early Sunday mornings, whenever he wasn’t out of town for games. Double dates when I caught a man’s notice. Whenever this happened—and, not to totally throw myself under the bus, but the dating thing wasn’t frequent—Andre always agreed to come along with whatever girl he was sexing upthatday.

Andre’s intimidating demeanor kept the creepersatbay.

Hard as it might be to believe, Andre hadmyback.

Just as Ihadhis.

Until we let one explosive kiss ruin everything. And it really did ruin everything, because that one spontaneous kiss led to the laundry room fiasco, and obviously we all know howthatturnedout.

Aka that time my birth-marked butt hit every small screen inAmerica.

It’s as horrifying as itsounds.

Andre rakes his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “So, what you’re saying is that either I take your advice, or I’m screwed. Do I have the gistofit?”

Gwen doesn’t wince, but there’s no hiding the way her gaze shifts to the floor. “If you want to keep your current lifestyle, then, yes, that about coverseverything.”

For a long moment, no one says a word. Then, he grumbles, “Fine. Whatever you have to do about this, then we’lldoit.”

Except that he doesn’t say “about” but ratheraboot, because, naturally, he’sCanadian.

A Canadian who isn’t all unicorns and rainbows andnice—in other words, Andre is practically unrecognizable amongst hisownkind.

“Great!” The tense lines in Gwen’s face ease. “Then I’d love to officially introduce you to your newpublicist.”

Andre’s back stiffens. “You won’t be in charge ofmycase?”

“Oh no,” Gwen says with a flippant wave of her hand. “Golden Lights is expanding to other cities, and I’ve got about ten different clients right now, one of whom can’t complete a sentence without dropping the f-bomb. No, Andre, you’ll be paired up with our newest addition to the Golden Lights Mediafamily.”

Slowly, as though his body is battling a rough current in the ocean, Andre twists at the waist to look at me. Seeing the realization spark in his expression might be my new favorite memory, right after the time my only pair of Manolo Blahniks arrived in the mail, and I slipped those beautiful babies onto my feet while I ate cereal and watched reruns ofFriends.

But this moment . . . Oh, boy, it’s a good one. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t waited a year to see Andre Beaumont look off-kilter and just a little bitscared.

His eyes glitter, but the inscrutable emotion banks as his mouth turns down. The quiet before thestorm.

“No.”

It’s all he says, and yet the two-letter word iseverything.

I grin, making it extra toothy just to show him that I amunfazed. With a little finger wave, I say, “Hello,Andre.”

A pulse ticks to life in hisjaw. “No.”

“Didn’t you say it’s been too long? I could have sworn that Iheardyou—”

“No.”

“I think you did,” I murmur sweetly, just short of batting my eyelashes at the man who I’ve dreamed of beating with his own hockey stick—between the legs, where ithurts.

“Walter—” Andre twists around to face the CEO of Golden Lights. He clears his throat, then does so again. “Mr. Collins, with all due respect, I demand someone else handle my case. Considering my . . . past with Miss Mackenzie, it only makessense.”

Walter tucks his hands under his armpits. “I’m sorry, Mr. Beaumont. We’ve hired Miss Mackenzie on a thirty-day trial, so unless something momentous happens during the interim, you have her andheronly.”

“A trial,” Andre drawls. I don’t like the way he rolls the word over on his tongue, like he’s considering the ramifications of his next few words. “And if she doesn’t last thethirtydays?”

“Then you’ll be assigned to someone else, and we’ll have to meet with Miss Mackenzie one-on-one to discuss her position with GoldenLights.”

I don’t like the way that Andre glances at me over his shoulder, a considering look darkening his ruggedfeatures.

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