I STOOD IN MY OFFICE, at the window, watching the practice below. I should be at my desk working, but I couldn’t seem to pull myself away from watching Max skate. A week had passed since the gala and I hadn’t seen Max other than from watching him in practice.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass.
Why couldn’t I get Max Logan out of my brain?
No matter how hard I worked to avoid him, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
A knock on my door pulled me back to reality.
“Rory?” Dad and a young woman stood in the doorway. “Rory, this is Andrea. She’s from Digital Dream.”
My mind was blank. “I’m sorry, did we have an appointment?”
Dad cleared his throat. “Andrea tells me that you are doing the final sign off for the outfits for one of our players?”
“For what?” I asked in confusion.
Andrea’s expression was perplexed. “I’m sorry. They told me that this was a formality.”
I sat down on the couch and motioned for her to join me. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
“We are putting together a photo calendar of Canadian hockey players from the NHL. All proceeds go to a charity that supports women in need. Katrina reached out to us and asked if Max Logan could be part of the calendar and naturally we were thrilled.”
Dad sat across from us with his arms crossed.
I spoke slowly. “This is the first I’ve heard of it, but it sounds like a good cause.”
“It’s an amazing cause. Last year we raised enough money to keep the doors open for eight women’s shelters across the country for twelve months.”
“That’s very impressive. What do you need from me?”
“I need you to sign off on the outfits for Max. Our policy is to get approval from the GM or assistant GM.” She handed me the file. “These are the possible outfits that we would like him to wear. He’ll be the month of December, which is quite an honor since that is our most popular month.”
My eyes widened as I took in the three proposed sketched outfits.
The first was a sketch of black underwear and a pair of skates.
The second sketch was nothing more than a white sports towel around the waist.
The final sketch showed that he’d model naked except for a helmet strategically held in front of his private parts.
I looked up at Andrea with concern. “Where are the clothes?”
Dad coughed, covering his laughter.
“Max would be positioned so that his photo would remain tasteful. This isn’t Playboy, this is a charity calendar.”
“Max approved this?”
“Katrina approved it.”
I stalled. “Has Max seen these?”
Dad reached forward and grabbed the sketches. The smile on his face grew. “He’ll do it.”
“What?” I lifted my head. “Don’t you think we should confirm with Max?”
“Nope. He’s in.”
“That’s amazing.” Andrea stood up. “The photoshoot is on Friday and Katrina said she’d attend with Max. We really appreciate this.”
Dad stood up and shook her hand. “It’s my pleasure.”
After she left, I turned on Dad. “Why did you approve that? I don’t think Max has seen those sketches.”
“I know he hasn’t.”
“Why is this funny to you?”
“Rory, you’re the one who said you wanted him to win the public over. This is for a good cause.”
“Not like this!”
“The guy needs to learn that we have rules. This should have been approved.”
“That’s a Katrina issue.”
He ignored that fact. “One more thing. I don’t want Katrina to attend this photo event.”
“Why not?”
“Because she has an agenda with Max and I don’t like it.” His voice sounded thoughtful. “You go with him instead. Let them both know.”
“Dad!”
The last thing I needed was to see Max naked wearing nothing but a towel.
Dad stood up. “I gave my word, so make sure Max takes part. That’s an order.”
I sagged back against the couch. God help me.
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” Max sat in front of my desk, holding the sketches like they were contaminated.
“Those are you proposed outfits for the charity calendar you signed up for.”
“Like fuck I did.”
Katrina leaned towards Max and put a possessive hand on his big forearm. “Max, remember the woman’s shelter project?”
His eyes widened. “You said I’d be wearing a uniform.”
“I said you’d be in a variation of a hockey uniform.”
He sounded incredulous. “This dude is holding a helmet in front of his junk. That is not a fucking variation.”
“I think you’ll be sensational.”
He tossed the sketches on my desk. “This is bullshit. Pull me out.”
My voice was dry. “It’s for a great cause.”
Accusing blue eyes lifted to my face. “You approved this? Without asking me?”
“The GM approved it. He believes in the cause, and he wants you to do this.”
“Tell him I want out.”
“He wasn’t asking.”
Max ran a hand over his face. “Fuck me.”
“Max,” Katrina coaxed in a soothing voice. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be there to walk you through every step.”
There were days I hated my job, but right now I was enjoying myself.
Too much.
“Katrina, the GM has requested that you don’t attend this event with Max.”
Katrina’s eyes went wide. “No. I set this up. This is my project. Max needs my support. I have to go.”
“Those were his orders.”
“He needs someone to be there,” she argued. “Max can’t go to this alone.”
“He won’t be alone. Someone will accompany him.”
“Who?” Her voice was shrill. “Who is going in my place?”
I worked to keep an impassive expression on my face. “I am.”
Max winced.
Katrina shot up off her seat. “You preordained this.”
“Trust me, I have better things to do, but the GM requested I attend.”
“I don’t think so,” she gathered her bag and focused her attention on Max. “I promise you that I’ll be there, okay? You can count on me.”
She strode out of my office.
Max leaned forward and pleaded. “You need to get me out of this.”
“I can’t.”
“You can talk to your dad.”
“I already tried, and he’s adamant this will happen.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” I parlayed back. “You’re banned from the media. You should have sought special permission before doing this.”
“Katrina set this up.”
“She should have then.”
“But I don’t even want to do this.”
“And that’s why he is making you do it.”
“He’s punishing me.”
“He’s teaching you that there are rules in this club.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“We pay you 1.2 million dollars a year. For that amount of money, we expect you to know the rules.”
“This is bullshit.”
I lifted my hands up. “My hands are tied. You’ll be excused from practice on Friday so we can go get your photo taken.”
His eyes studied the sketches. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Why not?
“I’ll be naked.”
“You’ve had plenty of photos of you in the buff.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “You can’t be in the room when this happens.”
“That’s fine. I will accompany you there and wait outside.”
He gave me another angry glance and then stood up and walked out.
FRIDAY MORNING, at an ungodly hour, Max and I arrived on the set. The room was a hub of activity. There was a white screen set up, and half a dozen lights were being adjusted by two men. The photographer fiddled with a camera while another two assistants set up his gear. A make-up artist sat talking to another woman at a make-up counter. Two women talked at the back and a young man carried coffee. There were two more men in suits, standing and talking around the breakfast table.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” I yelled over the loud techno music.
A big hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Max turned to me. “Don’t leave me.”
“Max.”
He radiated tension. “Stay.”
TWO HOURS LATER, the set was ready to go. Everyone stood around waiting. The only person missing was Max.
“Where’s our sexy model?” the photographer yelled.
Someone scurried up to him and then he turned around and roared, “Rory?”
“Yes?”
“Max wants to talk to you. He’s in the dressing room.”
The entire room watched as I walked across the room and knocked on the door.
“Come in.” Max’s voice sounded terse.
I stepped into the room and had to work to keep my mouth from dropping wide open. Max looked like a hockey god wearing the equivalent of hockey lingerie. His skates added 3 inches to his 6’4” frame. He wore a pair of short black boxers that showed off his powerful legs and his impressive bulge. His hard, muscular body sparkled with oil and glistened in the light. His hair was messily tousled. I had never seen anything so sexy in my entire life. My mouth felt dry and the rest of my body felt hot.
“You need to call this off.”
“Max.”
“Do it.”
“Tell me what is going on?”
His fists clenched at his side. “This is bullshit.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“Max. Talk to me.”
He breathed hard through flared nostrils. I’d never seen him this rattled.
“Max, talk to me.”
He waited so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. “They hate me.”
“Who?”
“The fans.”
Suddenly I realized what was going on. Max’s armor against the haters was his skill and talent on the ice. Now he stood here in his underwear. No armor. No protection. He felt vulnerable.
“Max, I don’t hate you.”
His gaze held mine.
“Not only do I not hate you, but I respect you. You haven’t been given a fair shot in this town and I wish that was different, but despite that, you persevere. Your commitment is absolute and your talent as a hockey player is flawless.”
“What’s your point?”
“After giving everything of yourself to the game, here you are, giving even more of yourself. This calendar raises enough money so that eight women’s shelters can keep their doors open for a year. And that makes me proud.”
Annoyance seethed from his pores. “Fine.”
“You’ll do it?”
“After that fucking speech, do I have a choice?”
“Okay. Let’s do this.”
“Stay where I can see you.” He demanded before he stalked out of the room.
“MAX, LOOSEN UP.”
“Max, can you crack a smile?”
“Max, baby. You look like you’re about to kill someone.”
“Max, this is a sexy calendar. You look like you’re posing for your passport photo.”
The photo shoot was a disaster. Max’s movements were stiff and uncomfortable. The photographer barked commands at him, and I heard grumblings they weren’t getting any good shots.
The photographer turned to adjust his lens, and I took that time to walk over to Max.
“How’s it going?”
“How the fuck do you think it’s going?”
He sounded so pissy about it, I resisted the urge to smile. “What’s wrong?”
“I hate this music.”
“What else?”
“There’s too many fucking people in this room.”
“Would it help if they left?”
“Anything would help at this point.”
“What else?”
“I’m wearing my skates and a pair of underwear. Some clothes would be nice.”
I chewed on my lip, thinking about what I would need to hear if I stood in his place. I would need someone to encourage me. Did Max need encouragement? That would mean I’d need to put myself on my line. The part of myself that I tried so hard to hide from him.
I stared at my sneakers and then, in an act of bravery, lifted my face to his. “You look sexy, okay? Women everywhere will get all hot and bothered when they see your photo.”
His eyes widened and then there it was. The start of that smile. “Bullshit.”
I leaned closer. “You’re so hot it’s unfair to all the other dudes in this calendar.”
I turned to walk away, and he reached out and grabbed my wrist, spinning me around.
“People, are we ready?” the photographer called out.
Max’s eyes were on my mouth. “Get rid of everyone.”
“I will.”
TEN MINUTES LATER, the music was off and only three people remained. Max, the photographer and myself.
I stood behind the photographer.
“Okay Max. I want you to think of sex.”
“Excuse me?”
The photographer was bent over his camera. “Try to imagine that I’m the chick you need to fuck. Not want, but need. This chick is the one that got away. You burn for her. You long for her. And when you see her, all you want to do is grab her and have your dirty way with her.”
Max stared at me.
I stared back.
“Be sexy for her, Max,” the photographer was taking photo after photo. “Tell her how you feel about her with your eyes. Try to let her know how much you want her.”
Max’s eyes never left me. I struggled to breathe. I could feel my body respond to his smoldering gaze. I was on the receiving end of his I-want-to-fuck-you stare and my traitorous body responded. My nipples hardened and my stomach clenched, but for the life of me, I couldn’t drop my gaze from his.
The camera whirred, and the photographer called out directions, but Max never took his eyes off me.
I imagined him wearing only those skates, lifting me up against a wall, while I wrapped my legs around his waist. His face would be against mine. Those eyes would burn for me. And then he’d roughly push his big…
“That’s a wrap.”
I blinked. In a daze, I turned to the photographer. “What?”
“We’re done here.”
I turned back to Max. He continued to stare at me with an intensity that made my insides quivery. I tried to smile but instead, my lips trembled.
His wolfish smile grew on his face. I crossed my arms and tried to appear nonchalant as his gaze leisurely perused my body as if I was the one standing in my underwear. I lifted my chin. There was no question he knew what effect he was having on me. He gave me one more taunting, heat-filled gaze that made my knees weak before he strode back towards his dressing room.
What just happened?
“So, the photos turned out?” I babbled, trying to cover up how much Max had affected me.
The photographer paused. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years and I just took some of the sexiest photos of my life. Your sex life must be off the charts.”
“Excuse me?”
He shook his head. “The way he was looking at you? That was pure, mind-blowing lust.”
“We aren’t sleeping together!”
He snorted. “Not yet. You’re not sleeping together yet.”
“I’m his boss.”
He lifted his head and took in my sneakers and skinny jeans. “Seriously?”
I crossed my arms over my still puckered nipples. “Yes. I’m his boss and we will not be sleeping together.”
The photographer snorted. “Says you.”
