Page 72 of Pucking Sweet

“Oh god.” I sit up and tap open the email. He only wrote one line. No salutation, no closing, no signature. One single sentence smirks up at me:

Please sign and return at your earliest convenience.

I tap the attachment. “Son of a—”

Lukas sent me an NDA and he’s requestingmysignature because I’m now officially one of his sexual partners in need of silencing. Next to the blank signature line, my full name is already printed: Poppy Aurora St. James.

I scramble to my feet, glaring down at my phone. “How theheckdoes that jerk know my middle name?!”

25

“This is so neat, Poppy. Thanks so much for doing this.” Jenni Malthus, one of the board members of Jacksonville General Hospital, walks at my side. Her colleagues—both named John—follow behind us.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” I assure her. “If we hurry, I think we’ll just catch the tail end of practice.”

We just spent the last two hours in the executive boardroom, finalizing all the details for our upcoming fundraiser. It’s my first big charity event as head of PR for the Rays. As a little sweetener, I promised them all a quick behind-the-scenes tour.

“The Rays are having a great season so far,” says John One.

“Early buzz says they might just make the playoffs,” John Two echoes.

“Hey, you better knock on wood,” I tease. “You know how superstitious these hockey players are. Mentioning the playoffs around here is like saying ‘Macbeth’ in the theater.”

They all laugh as I lead the way down the hall toward the public atrium. Above our heads, the hallway lights flicker.

“Do they always do that?” asks John One.

“Oh, just the joys of new construction,” I say with an airy wave. I tap my keycard on the door lock, and it beeps green. “Sometimes the generators fritz,” I add, pulling the door open.

And the air conditioning…

And Istilldon’t have a working phone or internet in my office.

“Are you going to bid on any of the silent auction items?” Jenni asks.

“Of course.” I slip my keycard back in the pocket of my lilac sheath dress. “How can I pass up the chance to win a yacht cruise?”

“I have my eye set on that golf package,” says John Two.

“You’re new to the area, right?” Jenni goes on.

Before I can answer, someone calls my name.

“Poppy St. James, as I live and breathe.”

My shoulders stiffen as I spin around. Lukas is striding toward us looking fresh from a shower. His cheeks are pink, eyes bright. The hair at his nape is still wet. “Shouldn’t you be playing hockey?” I say. “We were just heading over to catch the end of practice.”

“We finished early,” he replies with an easy smile.

What the heck is he doing? The last time we spoke, we were like two angry cats in a bag. Now he’s practically purring at me. Why do I feel the sudden urge to check that my purse isn’t full of Jell-O?

He looks from me to the JGH reps. “Hi, Lukas Novikov, best damn defenseman in the League.” He holds out a hand to Jenni first. She shakes it, and I do an obligatory round of introductions. The reps are all smiling like a trio of eager squirrels. It’s maddening.

“Did you need something, Lukas?”

“I do,” he replies, flashing me that crocodile smile. “I need to talk to you about the contract I sent over on Sunday. Did you get it?”

Oh, he isnotdoing this now!

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