Page 3 of Hayden


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I’m somewhat horrified.

No, I’m definitely fully horrified.

The woman notices me staring as she starts down the aisle. And then her big emerald eyes widen.

Oh, she knows who I am—the man whose reputation she ruined—just like I know who she is.

Okay, to be fair, I did a lot of that reputation-ruining on my own with my behavior. Still, it was her blabbing about my ill-advised fling that sealed the deal with the Blackhawks.

Like my nemesis can’t help herself, she comes to a faltering halt by my row.

I look up at her.

And then I’m kind of gawking.

Why?

Well, for a beat, though it’s crazy, I think she’s checking me out.

But that can’t be right.

I shake my head, and she narrows her eyes at me.

Now she just looks irritated.

This is unbelievable. I never thought I’d see her ever again. And why, when I do, does she have to be wearing a sexy, formfitting black dress that accentuates her every perfect curve?

I don’t know, but I’m unabashedly checking her out.

Take that, sweetheart.

If we were strangers, I’d try to get to know her, maybe even ask her out.

Hey, she’s heading to Atlanta, too, right?

But none of that will ever happen…because of who she is.

I’d never ask her out—not here, not now, not if my life depended on it.

Yeah, this woman, who just rolled her emerald eyes at me before she huffed and took off down the aisle, is fucking Addison Knight—my nemesis, my enemy, the one who ratted me out, the one who ran me out of Chicago.

Disgusted, I roll my own damn eyes.

I can’t get to Atlanta fast enough.

I just want to get the hell away from her, this time forever.

Addison

What the ever-loving hell?

How is this happening?

How am I on the same flight as Hayden Harrington?

Ugh!

I knew the jerkwas traded to Atlanta, but what’s the chance we’d be leaving Chicago at the same time?

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