The Devil in Denim by Melanie Scott

had been perfect timing. The Saints had even won the game. She’d been thrilled. She didn’t think she was going to be so thrilled this time. Trust Alex Winters to find a way to spoil even that for her.
    Alex smiled down at her and didn’t take his arm away. Once again she noticed just how damn good he smelled. If someone had asked her to describe her perfect man scent, it would be his. It made the female part of her want to breathe deep and snuggle closer into his embrace. Which was never going to happen. It was just more evidence that the universe had it in for her, making this man—who was doing his best to ruin her life—so damned appealing. And further proof that he’d made a pact with the devil.
    But as he’d just pointed out, she had a brain. A damned good one. And it was going to remain firmly in charge of this situation.

 
    Chapter Four
    The press conference wrapped up after an eternity of rapid-fire questions that Alex handled like a pro. Maggie beat a hasty retreat toward the warmth of indoors as soon as the press began to pack up. She accepted a cup of coffee from Gardner with gratitude, stripping off her gloves to warm her half-frozen fingers on the mug. She kept her coat on, wanting the extra layer until she started to thaw out. Alex, Lucas, and Malachi came in as a pack. Tall, handsome, and almost unbearably self-confident. They moved like kings. Solid in the knowledge that the universe would do what they wanted.
    She wasn’t sure she was up to dealing with three of them right now. Alex was bad enough. If his friends were as aggravating as him, then it didn’t bear thinking about. Still, she couldn’t help admiring the sight of the three of them together.
    Talk about eye candy.
    They definitely weren’t going to have much trouble winning the female Saints fans to their cause.
    Malachi, tallest of the three, needed a haircut but his dark brown eyes smiled in a rugged, chiseled face and his rangy, muscular frame did excellent things for the suit he wore. Lucas, the quietest of the three from what she’d seen so far, was just plain gorgeous. Dark hair cut short, bright blue eyes and olive skin put together in an Italian-movie-star kind of way. His navy suit fit him like a glove, the faint pinstripes delineating the very nice planes of his body, speaking of hand tailoring and money.
    And then there was Alex.
    Delectable as the other two were, she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to him. In all his annoying green-eyed and “just stepped off a beach somewhere” golden-haired glory. He too wore his suit with ease, though Maggie got the feeling that he’d rather be in the jeans and blazer he’d worn in almost every press image she’d ever seen of him.
    She gripped her coffee tighter trying to figure out if there was any way of leaving the room without being seen. She wanted to know what Alex had to tell her but she definitely didn’t want to have that conversation in front of an audience. Nor did she feel particularly like socializing. The players were starting to drift in behind the terrible trio. If Alex had any sense, he’d send them home before they could start asking too many questions. They had behaved at the press conference, but behind closed doors, they weren’t likely to stay polite for very long.
    She backed toward the door. Perhaps she’d go hide out somewhere up near Tom’s—no, Alex’s; she caught herself again—office and Winters could come and find her. She made it a few feet out of the room before the man himself materialized by her side.
    “Going somewhere?”
    “Just need a breather,” she said. “Not really in the mood to hang out with all the guys.”
    “I thought you loved the players.”
    “I do, but that doesn’t mean I want to be grilled by them about your little coup.”
    “Hardly a coup.”
    She sighed. “I don’t want to argue. Can’t you just let me go?”
    He tilted his head. “I’m not sure I want to be grilled by them either. Tell you what,