Page 29 of Puck You Very Much

“You’re right,” he said tersely and plopped down into the seat next to her. “Is this better?”

Groaning, she pulled her fingers from the keyboard. She was hoping to use the flight to Edmonton, Canada, where the Hawks had their season opener tomorrow, to catch up on work. But first Matt had annoyed her by saying he was bored, so she ended up giving him her favorite crossword puzzle from theNew York Times,and now Dax was making himself comfortable next to her. She had already spent too much time with him these last few days.

During their mission to portray him as the wonderful, compassionate human being that he was not, they had visited two children’s hospitals together, hosted a meet-and-greet with a few fans, and created a YouTube video for the Hawks’ channel, where Dax gave up-and-coming ice hockey players tips on how to improve their technique.

Dax had refused to give an interview because he felt any sensible journalist would ask him questions about Jack West that he didn’t want to answer. Lucy secretly agreed with him—not out loud of course—but had persuaded him to at least make a few statements for the press.

Overall, last week had been a complete success. It was refreshing to read something nice about Dax on the internet, and the way he’d interacted with the kids in the hospital was incredibly sweet. The kids were so excited, and Dax was surprisingly patient and not at all annoyed…

She was losing focus.

“Dax, I have to work,” she replied brusquely.

“Hm,” he uttered before reclining the seat back, stretching out his long legs, and crossing his hands behind his head with his eyes closed. He seemed content with his seat.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy leaned back and took advantage of his moment of inattention to let her gaze wander over his body.

Why did the players always wear suits when traveling? She didn’t understand this tradition at all. Athletes didn’t have to look respectable. They had to look sweaty and rough. It’s not like they would make good businessmen. Plus, slim fit should really go out of fashion soon. Those white shirts that clung to Dax’s strong shoulders and defined muscles like a second skin were really…not PG-13.

The suits were probably simply another way to make female fans swoon and sell more jerseys, because suits automatically made men look better regardless of whether they had square jaws and ice-blue eyes. Because ice hockey players in tight black jackets and these shirts…

“Staring at people is incredibly rude, Lucy,” Dax murmured.

She winced. “I’m not staring,” she replied immediately.

“Lying is also rude,” he continued. “You know, I usually only allow women lying in my bed waiting for round two or fans who pay to stare at me so intensely. Do you fall into either of these two categories?”

Heat filled her head, so she abruptly turned her face away. “Your tie is crooked, that’s all,” she explained dryly. “Get over yourself.”

He chuckled softly, a deep, husky laugh that vibrated throughout her body. “Given that you work in marketing, you’re a shockingly bad liar. Besides, didn’t I say that was rude?”

She sighed, closed her laptop forcefully, and then slammed her fist against the button on his seat that brought him back into an upright position. His hands fell to his sides, but otherwise, he remained in his relaxed pose, his expression pure serenity.

Dumbass.

“Okay, I’m listening,” she said annoyed. “You said something like I should definitely go out with Jack?”

He opened one eye and gave her a dark look. “Is everything out of your mouth meant to get a rise out of me? Or do you sometimes actually say neutral things?” he inquired directly.

She lifted a shoulder. “Oh, sometimes. On select Sundays. But not in your presence.”

He snorted, yawned briefly, and then opened his other eye. “Okay, then I’ll say it again. You’re not going out with Jack.”

“Jack,” she murmured, tapping her chin with her index finger. “Jack…Jack…that rings a bell. Jack Ryan…Jack Frost…Jack Sparrow?”

“Pirates are not good company for tiny people with big mouths like you,” he lectured. “You would have to walk the plank on the first day. And you know exactly who I mean. You’re just trying to provoke me again. If I were you, I’d be careful.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned in so his thigh brushed hers. It was warm and hard.

A shiver ran down her spine, not that she would ever let Dax know. So she jutted her chin out and raised an eyebrow. “Be careful?” she echoed, unimpressed.

“Yes,” he whispered, tilting his head. “Because we are in a metal box twenty thousand feet above the ground. You can’t run away and I could punish you in any way I please.” A lazy, self-satisfied smile spread across his face.

Her mouth went dry and her lips began to tingle. She would have liked to shift in her seat, to put some distance between them, but no dice. She could feel the heat of his body on her skin, and she couldn’t ignore the sweet knot in her stomach it was causing. And her dirty mind immediately responded to the wordpunish.

Oh God, this was ridiculous!Fifty Shades of Greyhad really had a bad influence in the world.

She cleared her throat and put on her most professional expression. “Why can’t I go out with Jack?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest. “And why do you presume to have any say in my personal life?”

“You have one in mine, so it only seems fair I have the same right.”

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