Page 50 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“Hailee? Hailee? Is everything okay?” It takes me a few seconds to register where that distant voice is coming from.

“Oh shit,” I hiss, spinning around and letting go of the door so I can find my cell.

“Hi, Jude, I’m so sorry.” There’s a loud intake of breath behind me, and I curse my choice of bikini because almost all my ass is on display right now. “I dropped my phone, and then my buzzer went off. Do you mind if we hit pause on this? I think it’s a fantastic idea, though.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll work on what we discussed and send a schedule over for you to review.”

“Sounds good. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too.”

He cuts the call first, and I lower my cell, keeping my back to the man I know has invited himself into my apartment, and from the way my skin is tingling, I’m guessing he’s still staring at my ass.

I take a moment to breathe before I spin around, swipe my cover up from the counter, and throw it over my shoulders. Only, the sheer black fabric gets all twisted up, and I end up battling with something that isn’t going to hide even an inch of my skin when it’s on.

“Let me help,” Hayden rasps, his voice suspiciously deep as he reaches out and takes control of the situation.

He shakes out the fabric, allowing it to untwist, then holds it so I can slip my arms inside.

“Thank you,” I mutter under my breath as I wrap it around my waist, for all the good it does. My tiny, fire engine–red bikini that is reserved for days at home alone and no one else's eyes but mine is still on full display.

He doesn’t say anything, and I realize that I have no choice but to roll my shoulders back and own this situation. It’s what he’d expect me to do. I’m Hailee Caldwell, after all, badass PR Director for the LA Vipers. Showing my ass to a player doesn’t even come close to bringing me down.

“What are you doing here, Hayden?” My words come out harsher than intended, and the second his expression drops, I regret them.

“I…uh…brought your suitcase. And lunch,” he says, holding up the bag, reminding me he mentioned something about sandwiches.

“Right. How did you find which apartment was mine?”

A smirk twitches at his lips, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“You sweet-talked the concierge, really?”

“Yep, and signed a few things for his kid, and promised front-row tickets to a game or two.” I raise my brows. “Or five,” he admits before his eyes drop from mine once again. “So fucking worth it, though. You look like a goddess, Hails.”

“Hails?” I echo.

“Uh…Hailee. Shit. I’m sorry,” he says, dragging his hand down his face. “I wasn’t expecting…you’ve…you’ve kind blown my mind with all…” He waves his hand up and down, indicating my body. “With all that.”

I close my eyes, my muscles relaxing a little.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have answered the door like that. I was on the phone and expecting my smoothie.”

“That’s a smoothie?” he asks, his nose wrinkling at the drink. “Aren’t they meant to be full of fruit?”

“Peanut butter banana.”

Now his top lip peels back too.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he begs.

“No, it’s a great source of protein and will keep me full all day. You should probably look at adding it to your diet.”

“Absolutely not,” he scoffs. “This body is a temple, and no peanut butter enters.”

“Shit, you’re not allergic, are you?” I suddenly ask, reaching for my smoothie and moving it away from him.

“No, you’re safe. I’m still not putting it anywhere near my lips.”