Page 23 of Bar Down

"She's curious about the PR director who challenges me regularly," he explained. "Amara finds people more interesting than I usually do."

"And you want me to meet her?" Stephanie asked carefully, her voice dropping to a register that sent heat crawling up his spine.

"She'll hound us both if I don't introduce you. She's relentless."

A slow smile spread across Stephanie's lips. "So this is about avoiding your sister's pestering, not introducing me to your family?"

"Both," he replied honestly, letting his gaze drop briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes.

"I'll think about it," she said, not committing. "Let's see how the road trip goes first."

Marcus accepted this with a nod.

As they prepared to leave, Stephanie hesitated, then spoke softly. "Thank you, Marcus. For listening. For understanding. For not dismissing my concerns as paranoia."

"I'd never do that," he replied, voice rougher than intended. "Your assessment of Reed comes from direct experience—the same way I read plays on the ice. Your conclusions are solid."

His validation, delivered without sugar-coating, seemed to reach her in ways pretty words wouldn't have. Stephanie straightened, relief obvious in the way she moved—lighter, more fluid.

Outside, they maintained professional distance walking toward the practice facility. Anyone watching would see only the PR director and the defenseman having a typical work conversation.

"Same time tomorrow?" Marcus asked. "To work more on our presentation?"

Stephanie hesitated. "I might be tied up with ownership meetings. I'll let you know."

She was retreating, and they both knew it. But the current running between them was anything but typical. Marcus felt it in the way her gaze occasionally flicked to him, lingering on his shoulders, his hands, his mouth. He fought to keep his own eyes from tracking the sway of her hips in that perfectly fitted suit.

As she walked ahead into the building, Marcus took his time appreciating the view—the curve of her calves, the way her jacket tapered at her waist, the confident rhythm of her stride. He'd blocked shots from the league's hardest shooters without flinching, but this woman had him completely off balance.

Chapter Six

Marcus

Marcus lived for morning skates. The crisp ice surface, the sharp sound of blades cutting through frozen water, the satisfying click of tape-to-tape passes—all of it brought him clarity nothing else could match.

This morning, though, his focus kept drifting to the stands where Stephanie sat with her tablet. She pretended to review media notes, but her eyes tracked him across the ice more often than they stayed on her screen. He texted her a bunch of times this morning, but she hadn’t responded.

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