Page 59 of Sin Bin

“Right.”

I tear my gaze away from his, and seat myself at his kitchen island. We need to get back on track. Slipping my hot-pink bag from my shoulder, I place it on the table and rifle through the contents. Out comes my laptop, as well as my day planner. I find my hot-pink pen in one of the zippered sidecompartments.

Andre’s brows pull low. “You cameprepared.”

Prepared for what, though? Prepared to feel desire twine through my limbs? To feel warm and secure andlovedeven when he’s telling me that I’m better offwithouthim?

Somehow, I don’t think that’s what hemeans.

“We have a lot to talk about,” I say instead, opening my laptop and turning it on. “I haveaplan.”

He takes the seat opposite mine, his big shoulders bunching as he plants his forearms on the kitchen island’s counter. “You mentioned thatearlier.”

Well, isn’t he paying attention for once? With a few clicks on my touchpad, I pull up the document I worked on all last night. “How do you feel about kids?”Iask.

When he doesn’t answer, I glance up and note his horrified expression. “Feel free to stop cupping your testicles, Beaumont. If I needed a sperm donor, you wouldn’t be my firstchoice.”

His frown cracks, just as I intended it to, but the weirded-out expression on his face stays in place. “I’d be anyone’s first choice,” he saysgruffly.

I nod sagely. “Ah, yes, I forgot—you’re a god among men.” Rolling my eyes, I flip open my day planner to today’s date, and then uncap my pen. All right, we’re ready for business. “Like I said, I’m not after your little guys. I’m talking about in general. Are you okay with kids? I mean—your sister’s little boyiscute.”

“Yeah, I’m . . . ” He coughs into a closed fist. “I’m goodwiththem.”

“Great!” I slide my laptop around, and then use the tip of my pen to tap on the screen. “Rightthere.”

Andre’s mouth moves as he reads the words to himself. One second passes, two seconds pass . . . by the time we’re nearing ten seconds, I’m squirming in my seat with nervous anticipation. “So? What do youthink?”

Dark eyes blink slowly. “You want us to hold ahockeycamp?”

Nerves bundle in my throat, and I push them down and away. “It’s the sort of event that most teams do,” I say, trying my very best not to let my insecurities rise. “You did it with the Red Wings every year. The Boston Bruins do it, too. But the Blades never have, not once since the franchisestarted.”

His teeth momentarily settle over his lower lip, and, boy, I wish that one look wasn’t so potent. “This is a bigundertaking,Zoe.”

“Sure it is—but it’s also brilliant. What better way to show the world that you’re not completely heartless than by hanging with kids for the afternoon, doing what youdobest?”

“Zoe, what I do best is an adults-onlyparty.”

My mouth opens, and I go so far as to lift a finger, only to realize that I have nothing to say to that, except for, “Get your mind out of thegutter.”

“I’m just beinghonest.”

“Stop beinghonest,then.”

The corners of Andre’s eyes crease when he flashes a smile. “I think you might be the only woman who has ever said thattome.”

“Glad to be the first,” I reply, before tapping my pen against the laptop screen again. “Really, though, if you think about it, this is great. We’ll get the Blades together—the whole team—and invite the media. Instead of barkingatthem—”

“Idon’tbark.”

“Okay, instead ofgrowlingat them, you’ll have a nice, polite conversation, just like you did atFame. Maybe we can get the local news station out there, too. Get the whole thingcatered.”

“Will this be held at the Garden?” The panicked look has lessened a little, and unless I’m mistaken, he looks . . .intrigued.

Intriguedisgood.

Intrigued is better than what I hadexpected.

In answer to his question, I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. If I have my way, and I’m fully aware that this might not happen, I don’t want any of this taking place on Blades turf. It needs to be at a local rink, a place where kids can feel like they’re really playing one-on-one with you guys. At the Blades’ practice rink or at the Garden . . . it’s tooformal.”

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