Page 9 of Breakaway to You

His fingers stroked his chin like he was deep in thought. “Let’s see. I’m thinking you like your men tall, about 6-foot-3. You prefer dark hair, and if it has some curl to it, even better.”

I glanced up at his dark hair—which definitely had some curl to it—I knew for a fact that he was 6-foot-3. I was seeing a pattern here.

“You find a strong build attractive, and you like your men to be athletic,” he continued as if I hadn’t caught on to what he was doing. “Oh, and I can’t forget how you are a sucker for blue eyes, a cleft in the chin, and a guy who can make you smile.”

Okay, I’d fallen right into that. I should have known he would describe himself, thinking he was so funny.

I bent his leg again, leaning in with what I hoped was a mischievous glint in my eye. “You forgot weighs 215 pounds, is four years older than me, and is a relentless flirt.”

His eyes seemed to brighten at my playfulness. “So you’re saying I’m your type.” A smirk spread across his lips. “I’m flattered.”

I didn’t want to laugh. I really didn’t. But a laugh escaped me regardless.

“You’re impossible.” I straightened his leg and placed it down, rounding the table and going to work on his other knee.

“Impossibly tempting,” he said with a wink.

I gave him a pointed stare, hoping I could sell the words I was about to tell him. “Not even a little bit.”

“Ouch,” he said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart.

I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “Did you not just see what happened? There is nothing—no one—who could tempt me to date a hockey player again, especially not one on the team, whom I work with as their physical therapist. I have no desire to do that again. I learned my lesson the first time.”

And I meant it. I would not put myself in that situation again. No guy was worth risking my career over. I had gotten lucky that a position with the Wolves had opened up when it had.

Bending his leg, I continued, “Don’t you have plenty of other women to keep you busy? I can’t be the only person you feel the need to flirt with.”

I had a feeling Zeke had a flirtatious personality. All of this probably didn’t have anything to do with me personally. But I was also curious to see if I could gain any insider information about his dating life. Why? I don’t know. I was curious. This hockey-famous, good-looking man intrigued me. So sue me.

“Not all hockey players are womanizers.” His face was a mixture of annoyance and hurt. “Especially the older ones, like me. You realize that a lifestyle like that gets monotonous pretty fast.”

“For as much as you hate being referred to as old, you sure call yourself that a lot,” I remarked with a small smile.

“Isn’t that how you see me?”

I set his leg down and took a moment to look at him, letting my eyes glide over him. His dark hair was almost dry from his shower, the ends still damp and curling up around his ears. His shoulders were broad and muscular, his pecs stretching the fabric of the black t-shirt he wore, his waist tapering down to a V…

And that is where my perusal needed to end. Tension seemed to crackle, and the room, which had once felt spacious, now felt confining.

I looked away and cleared my throat, returning my focus to his knee. There was nothing sexy about a knee. Right? At least right now his leg was covered by pants. But I wouldn’t put it past Zeke to have sexy knees.

“I don’t see you as old,” I finally said, hoping he hadn’t noticed how I’d gotten all hot and bothered ogling him. “I would use the word…mature.” I flashed him what I hoped was a teasing grin. I needed to break the tension and get things back to a more professional vibe.

My word choice had him chuckling. “Mature? I think we can both agree that calling myself ‘The Zeke Man’ is anything but mature.”

His answer surprised me, and I found myself laughing again. “True.” I tapped his hip. “Turn on your side, and we’ll get to work on your hip.”

He did as he was told, but having him turned toward me seemed more intimate than when he had been on his back.

I mentally slapped myself. Intimate? There was nothing intimate about myjob. I worked with men all the time and not once had that word ever crossed my mind.

I was probably just having an off day. What with Jordan showing up and then Zeke being all flirty, it was too much for me to handle at the end of the day.

I instructed him to push into a side plank, raising up his hips, while lifting his outside leg up and down.

“Lift your hip a little higher,” I said, and watched him follow my instructions. “Wow, what a difference it makes to have you not fight me on every single exercise.”

“I wasn’tthatbad.”

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