Her Man Advantage. Joanne Rock

all the reasons she shouldn’t be fraternizing with someone she’d be filming. She was a professional, damn it.

      “This may be a bad idea,” she warned, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his soft cotton button-down.

      Sweet, merciful heaven, when had she allowed herself to touch him back?

      “There’s no maybe about it,” he told her, lowering his head and inhaling a deep breath. “This will only lead to complications.”

      BREATHING IN HER SUBTLE floral scent, Axel told himself to let go of Jennifer.

      He needed to pry his fingers off, one by one, and walk away from the insanity. He had her pinned between the wall and the most insistent hard-on of his life, for Chris-sakes. This was totally out of line. Unacceptable.

      And why the hell couldn’t some stray maintenance worker show up right about now to startle them apart? He didn’t think anything else—besides a cattle prod—would do the trick.

      “I didn’t see this coming,” she confided, her voice kind of soft and wonder-filled in a way that only wound him up more. “Not for a second.”

      He kept his head down, eyes on the floor, not ready to see her lips all soft and ready for his kiss. Not ready to see her eyes filled with that hazy, unfocused gaze that meant she was thinking about sex as much as he was.

      “No? That’s funny because I felt it like a damn freight train headed my way the moment you asked me to show you around.”

      She stiffened slightly, the subtle shift of her body a movement that inflicted a unique brand of torment on him when he knew this little interlude was going nowhere. At least not today.

      “I hope you didn’t think I was coming on to you.” She managed to sound honest-to-God uptight about it even though her fingers still clutched the placket of his shirt.

      “Of course not.” He gritted out a semblance of a polite smile as he backed up a step and her hands fell away. “I can see you’re not attracted to me in the least.”

      “Well!” she huffed, crossing her arms in such a way that drew the fabric of her blouse tight across her breasts. “I don’t mean that I’m not attracted now. I just meant I wasn’t thinking about any such thing back when I asked for the tour.”

      Following the line of his gaze, she uncrossed her arms. Straightened her blouse. Lifted her chin.

      Damn, but he wanted to take her home and tease her some more. Undress her slowly and put that note of awe and wonder back in her voice. But that was not in the plan. He should be chasing her away from the team and most particularly him, not lingering in darkened hallways with her.

      “Fine. But now you see where this is headed and that it’s a bad idea. Can we agree it would be best for all parties if the tour ends here?” He needed to regroup someplace else, somewhere far from the scent of lilies of the valley.

      He hadn’t even seen those damn flowers in over ten years, let alone smelled them. How strange that meeting her called up the few rare good memories he had of his childhood home, especially since her project had the potential to bring all the worst ones back to life.

      “Agreed.” She gave a tight nod. “Thank you for showing me around.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      He waited for her to storm off in a display of feminine outrage. Stomp down the hall in a huff, maybe. Or sashay away with a little extra hip swing to remind him of what he was missing.

      He should have remembered she wasn’t a conventional female. She simply frowned, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. She appeared deep in thought, her gaze focused somewhere above his head.

      “Would you like me to walk you to your car?” he prompted in what he considered an inspired moment of chivalrous manners.

      His foster mom, Mrs. Murphy, would be proud.

      “No, thank you.” Her face cleared and she pointed to the wall behind him, where the life-size posters of Phantoms players loomed. “As long as the tour is over, maybe you can tell me a little about your teammates.”

      And he fought the urge to roll his eyes—he couldn’t believe she’d changed gears so quickly when he was still wrestling a massive case of sexual frustration.

      “No.” He shook his head, needing to be very clear with her. “I can’t. Spending time with you is not a good idea for me, whether it’s giving you a tour or telling you about the guys. I’m having a career season, Jennifer—”

      “Jen. Call me Jen.” Not even looking at him, she moved closer to the posters of the players, eyes narrowing to read the text beside Kyle’s picture.

      “Jen.” He angled his body between her and the write-up, needing to make sure she got the message. “It’s important to me to maintain the momentum I’ve got going while we finish up the regular season. Routine is everything when you’re maintaining a streak. I just can’t—”

      “Am I interfering with your routine?” She peered around as if mystified about what else he’d be doing if not talking to her.

      “This whole TV circus is messing up my routine and I only just found out about it.” He realized he’d maneuvered close to her again when his body started humming as if he had metal under his skin and she was an industrial-strength magnet.

      “Okay, I get it. You want nothing to do with me.” Searching around in her purse, she fished out a piece of paper and a pencil. “Can you at least tell me who you would recommend I talk to? Is there anyone on the team who might have a few minutes to spare to give me some insights on the Phantoms?”

      Pencil poised, she looked at him expectantly. Here was his out. He could simply give her the name of one of the other guys and someone else could escort her around the rest of the training facility. Their game arena downtown. Someone else could talk to her and catch her when she jumped down from swinging on the girders.

      Thinking about how much one of the other guys might like that—and how much he would hate every second of witnessing it—he found he couldn’t come up with a name for her.

      “How about I call Leandre Archambault?” she prompted, pointing to his teammate’s photo on the wall.

      Her pencil flew across the paper until he caught it. Halted it. Gripped the damn thing so hard he accidentally snapped it in two. Leandre was the worst ladies’ man on the team and he had no intention of letting him anywhere near Jennifer.

      “No.” He couldn’t walk away. Besides, he was better off talking to her behind the scenes, steering her away from him and toward other guys for filming purposes. If she had to film them, Axel would make sure her camera was focused on anyone but him. “I have time to talk to you.”

      “What about your routine?” One eyebrow quirked, but she didn’t seem to be gloating over his inability to cut her loose. If anything, she appeared genuinely interested.

      “I’ll find a way to make it work.” That way he could keep an eye on her. Damn it, he’d known that would be best all along. But the encounter in the hall had rocked him so much he’d second-guessed the plan. “Let’s start tomorrow, though. Give us time to regroup.”

      She nodded.

      “Great. And because I appreciate it so much, I’m going to promise you that I will keep my hands to myself at all times.” She held up her hands for him to see and wiggled the fingers for good measure. “See? You’re safe with me.”

      His skin reacted as surely as if she’d skimmed that touch along his bare back. His naked abs.

      Desire slammed him like a body check to the boards.

      “Right.” He waved her away from the display toward the conference room so she could gather her stuff. “Too bad it’s not you I’m worried about.”

      4

      “IS