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“So, you’re going to be the sole woman in the house?” she cries.
“It would seem so, yes.” A trickle of awareness tickles my senses.
“Do you trust yourself to live under the same roof as Rick?” she asks with a teasing glint in her eyes.
“What? Of course. I don’t even like the man.”
“You don’t have to like him to jump him.” Her smile widens.
“No, no, no. I plan to stay far away from him. I only agreed to this plan because I want to be seen as a team player.” I scowl.
"It’s going to demonstrate you're a team player, all right." She snickers.
"What do you mean?"
"You poor thing, I pity you." She shakes her head.
"You do?"
She rises to her feet and walks over to me. "You’re going to be living in a house with sweaty, hunky, muscled, chiseled, well-hung hockey players, lady."
"Ugh." I shudder. "Imagine being surrounded by sweaty players with stinky feet. Not to mention, hairy chests. And don’t get me started on smelly socks and all that belching and farting." I grimace.
She stares at me. "You can’t be serious. You’re going to be surrounded by eye-candy, and if you were to sample some of the wares—"
"No! Absolutely not." I straighten my spine. "I’m a professional. This is my career we’re talking about. I will not have any kind of personal relationships with the players."
She frowns. "Is that in your contract, not to fraternize with them?"
"Well… No—" I shuffle my feet. "But it’s an unspoken rule. The fastest way to lose perspective is to sleep with your client."
"The players are not your clients."
"The team is, so by default, they all are."
"Including the captain?" She bites the inside of her cheek.
"Especially the captain." I tip up my chin. "I’m going to be working closely with him, having daily briefings with him, actually."
"Too bad. It’s clear from this…" She pulls up that hated photo on her phone and holds it up again. "There’s something between the two of you."
"You can tell that from a picture?"
"Of course. Your features are soft, your gaze dreamy. And he looks all possessive, and angry, and snarly, and so macho." Her expression grows dreamy.
"Okay, stop. Maybe there was a moment there, but it was nothing."
"Hmm."
"No, don’t hmm me. Please help me out. I don’t like the man, and I’m going to have to work with him."
She peers into my features. "This is stressing you out?"
"What do you think I've been trying to tell you all this time?"
"But you’re a professional. You're the most focused person I know. You won’t do anything to screw it up."
"I wish I shared your confidence." I half laugh.
