Page 31 of Zero Pucks Given (Las Vegas Angels 1)

Shaking my hand, he said, “Gigi, how nice to finally meet you. I’ve been looking forward to this.” His eyes held mine just as firmly as his grip. He smelled nice, too. I felt a small blush rise to my cheeks.

“Nice to meet you as well, Quentin,” I said before he let go of my hand and took the drink Marcel offered him.

“Sit, Quentin, sit,” Marcel said, directing him to a chair. “We’ve only just begun to talk with the kids about our proposed arrangement. If you could help, please?”

Quentin flashed his bright, white smile at me. “Gigi,” he said, then turned to Beau, “Beau. To put it lightly? People went fucking apeshit when they saw the pictures of you two together. Ape shit crazy. The comments were through the roof. Unbelievable.”

“This could be a boost to both of your careers the likes no one has ever seen before in hockey. The older, veteran captain with the young, hot, new captain of the women’s team?” He clapped his hands together, making me jump. “Boom. The synergy you guys have is off the fucking grid.”

After I took another, longer sip, I said, “You’re aware Beau and I aren’t together?”

Quentin smiled at me. “Don’t give one fuck, G. All that’s important is that they,” he said, pointing toward the door, “think you are.”

“I’m confused. Are you asking us to pretend we’re dating?” Beau asked, a frown on his face that likely equaled mine.

“Not asking, pal. Telling. This,” he said, his hand waving to Beau then back to me, “works. Bigtime. You two look perfect together. Add in your age difference and the fact you’re both captains of the new start-ups?” Again, he clapped his hands together. “Boom, baby.”

I finished my glass and set it on the end table beside me. My head felt dizzy and I wondered if I was in a dream. “I’m not big on lying, Quentin. It’s not something I do, I’m sorry.” The idea of lying to everyone made me queasy. There were some things I just didn’t believe in and lying was one of them.

“Gigi, it’s done all the time in the acting biz. How many instances can you think of where the lead actor and actress become a real-life couple? It’s done all the time. Trust me,” Quentin said.

“For how long,” Beau asked, and my head spun toward him. Was he actually considering this?

Angelique spoke up, “We can see how well the news is received and go from there, non?”

Quentin cut in, “At least for the season, buddy. It has to be long-term otherwise we lose any kind of leverage we’ve gained.”

Beau nodded, then looked over at me—his dark eyes assessing me. “Can Gigi and I have a minute to talk?” he asked, leaning his elbows onto his thighs.

Oh my gosh, what the heck did he think we needed to talk about? This idea was insane. There was no way I was going to pretend to be dating Beau.

“Absolument,” Angelique said, smiling at both of us as she stood. “Come see what surprise I have in store for you both.”

I followed her out, Beau close behind me. I expected him to make a wise crack, but he didn’t. Angelique led us down the stairs to the lower level and my heart nearly exploded.

“Oh my gosh, did Claudette have puppies?” I gasped, my hands covering my mouth.

“She and Claude are proud, new parents. Isn’t it merveilleuse?” she said, but I barely heard her. My attention was taken up by the sweet, tiny, furry, rolly polly babies in front of me.

“Can I—” I started to ask.

Angelique laughed. “Be my guest. I’ll just leave you two alone to—talk.”

I started to bend down and take off my heels, but my efforts were interrupted. “I’ll do it, hang on,” Beau said, already crouched down, his hands on my ankle undoing the small buckle.

The feel of his hands on my skin gave me instantaneous goose bumps. But who cared? There were six, adorable puppies waiting for me. “Hurry up,” I said, looking down at Beau as I gave him my other foot.

“Hold your horses,” he said, pulling the strap across my foot.

“I want to hold those puppies but you’re taking a year,” I said and stared down at him. He looked up at me with the most devastatingly handsome smile that made me catch my breath.

“Tu es libre,” he said with his hot, French accent.

Yeah, I was free all right. He held my arm as I stepped over the small fence they’d used to cage in the puppies. For a moment I felt like I was about to walk from one cage to the next. But I didn’t want to think about that right now.

The smallest French bulldog I’d ever seen waddled up to my toes and I squealed, “Where have you been all my life?” I picked him—or her—up and held the cutest, chubby puppy in my hands. Gazing into those miniature eyes, I said, “Why are you the cutest thing in the world?”

Then I sat down and picked up another one. Then another. Soon, I had five, squirming puppies crawling on me.

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