Offside by Kelly Jamieson Page A

the way the air buzzed, the way tension
hummed around them, the need for her that surged through his
body.
    “So I was thinking the option that
would do the most good and give us the most exposure for you and
the team would be working with Franklin Middle School.”
    He tried to take in the words, heat
still throbbing through his veins straight to his groin. The fact
that he was proving his own point wasn’t lost on him, the hormones
racing through his bloodstream actually making it difficult to
process her words. What? She was back on fucking business? And he
was ready to grab her and throw her over his shoulder and carry her
out of the bar.
    “Need a minute,” he muttered, setting
down his glass and shoving his chair back. He rose and strode
across the bar toward the bathrooms. He was probably walking funny,
his dick so hard it hurt. He just needed to get away from her for a
minute. She was making him fucking nuts.
    In the bathroom, luckily alone, he
paused with a hand flat on the wall, head bowed. Think of something
else. Okay. Okay. The hospital. The neck brace. The
pain.
    Not that he liked to relive those
days, but hell, it was working. Remembering the fear and agony was
enough to deflate the most determined hard-on.
    Honey. Goddamn her.
    They’d been having a fun conversation,
a little flirting, a lot of sexual tension. Fuck yeah, he knew it
was a bad idea, but he had not been wrong when he’d said that
hormones could mess with a dude’s thinking process.
    And…it was Honey .
    Sure, people could cut her down and
roll their eyes at her because of her reputation and the things
she’d done, but sure as hell, ninety-eight percent of guys sitting
across the table from her would be having the same problem he had.
Because she was the shit. Smoking-hot body, gorgeous face and
goddammit, a smart mouth. Which strangely turned him on most of
all.
    He sucked in a long breath and lifted
his head to look at the ceiling.
    Okay. What the hell was he supposed to
do?
    He wanted her. There was no getting
around that. But there were probably a million reasons why that was
a bad idea. Did he even have to go through them all? First, their
history together. Second, her dad. Third, they were supposed to be
working together. And then there was her reputation and what people
already thought of her. He did not need that kind of attention in
his life when he was trying so hard to come back from injury and
prove he could still play. He also did not need the distraction of
a hot chick when he needed to focus on his career. And then there
was her dad…oh yeah, he’d already listed that one.
    Fuck.
    Okay. Just like she’d told him, he
needed to use his big head here. He did not have to be driven by
hormones. He could work with Honey and keep it all
businesslike.
    He returned to the table, watching her
sitting there as he crossed the bar. Her silky blonde hair hung
forward, her head bent as she scrolled through something on her
phone.
    “Sorry,” he said as he dropped back
into his seat. “So where were we?”
    She turned those beautiful brown eyes
on him and sweat popped out beneath his T-shirt. “Franklin Middle
School,” she said in her soft, husky voice that was like fingers
stroking over his balls.
    Christ, he was lost.
    “I think we need another drink,” he
said hoarsely, tossing back the last of his wine and looking around
for the server. “Maybe tequila shots.”
    Her eyebrows lifted.
    “Kidding,” he muttered. “Sort of.” He
lifted a hand and the girl who’d served them earlier hustled over
with a flirty smile. He ordered another glass of wine for Honey
even though she protested, and a beer for himself.
    “Okay, business,” he said.
    “This school has students who are of
diverse ethnicity from economically challenged neighborhoods. Boys
and girls can be involved. We use the game of hockey as a catalyst
to attract youth to a program offering support for education,
self-esteem building and life-skills training.”
    He