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PROLOGUE

Joey

I’m sitting in my office and wondering how in the fuck I got here.

I mean, I know how I got the head coaching job for the Sierra hockey team—same as I know that part of me will never be satisfied with how it was bestowed upon me.

I didn’t earn it.

Not wholly.

I’m the consolation prize, the diversity hire.

Or, at least, that’s what the sports bloggers are saying.

Sighing, I settle back in my chair—what has officially become my chair over the last days—and try to get my head together.

Tonight is my official first game as the head coach of the Sierra.

I’m the first woman to ever get here.

And I need to make it count.

I need?—

There’s a perfunctory knock before the door opens and…

My lungs hitch.

Because the general manager of the Sierra, Damon Connors, walks in.

Tall, grumpy, sexy as hell, and built like a male model, the man is temptation personified.

I’ve wanted him from the first moment I laid eyes on him.

Which was approximately one second before I came to terms with the fact that I could never have him.

Not just because he’s my boss?—

But also because he’s untouchable.

The fallen hero who clawed his way from the shadows back into the light. The avenging…not angel, because he’s far from that, but the antihero with a savior complex, a soft spot for the women in his life, and a moral code that’s known only to him.

He’s everything I lust after.

In fact, he’s so perfect for me it’s like the universe peeped into my Kindle reading history and rendered a man from between the pages.

“You good?” he asks quietly, stepping close enough for me to see the scar crisscrossing his right eyebrow, the flecks of gold in his blue eyes.

I grab my tablet, loaded with everything I can possibly need to coach effectively tonight, and stand. “I’m good,” I confirm as I round my desk and move toward the door—which, invariably, brings me closer to him.

His spicy male scent fills my nose.

The heat that always seems to radiate outward from his body scorches my skin.

Those intent blue eyes fix on mine…and go soft. “Joey,” he says gently.

My fingers spasm, sending the tablet to the floor.

Dammit.

Quickly, I bend, trying to ignore that he’s bending with me, reaching for the tablet before I can grab it. He lifts it, presses it into my hands, and I know he’s reading my nerves completely wrong when he says, “You’re going to be fine, Red.”

Red . His nickname for me. Something that never fails to send butterflies through my middle.

And add in that gentle? To most, he’s not a gentle man. But I’ve seen glimpses of that soft, that gentle, that nice streak…and it’s my kryptonite.

Which is why I’m unable to move, staring at him even though I know I’m going to be fine out there on the bench tonight.

Sure I have nerves.

But I’m qualified and capable.

The guys like and respect me.

I’ve paid my dues.

I just…have the weight of female representation sitting on my shoulders and the hots for my boss.

No big deal.

Because as of a few days ago, I have the job I’ve always dreamed of.

And because of that, the man I’ve always dreamed of has become untouchable.

Something I remind myself of then and there.

I need to focus on what’s ahead, not lament about what I can’t have.

“I know I’ll be fine.”

Because I have to be.

The arena’s full of fans—I can already hear the sounds of the crowd, even from our position in the bowels of the arena.

I straighten my shoulders, lift my chin, and turn to go.

But the moment I reach for the door handle, Damon is in front of me, those blue eyes blazing. “You know I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t think you were up for it.”

I don’t know that.

I mean, I do.

But I don’t and?—

“Joey,” he says, settling his hands on my shoulders, crouching a little to hold my gaze. “You’re up for this.”

Gentle again.

And, goddammit, my heart can’t take this.

Grumpy, demanding, bordering on the edge of asshole Damon, I can deal with.

Sexy, brooding, taciturn Damon, I can handle.

But sweet, gentle Damon with the encouraging words?

Nope.

This isn’t good at all.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that I respect and like him, that I’ve wanted to explore every inch of that strong, muscled body…this whole interaction has me falling a little in love with him.

And I know he sees it.

Because he steps back as if he’s been burned.

“Joey.”

It’s a cold rebuke.

“I need to get on the ice,” I mutter, shoving by him, reaching for the handle again. My fingers close around the cool metal when his words reach my ears.

“This can’t be, you know that.”

I turn the knob. “I know that.”

“For a hundred reasons.”

Gee, thanks.

“I know that too,” I say aloud, pulling the door open.

“It can’t be.”

I glance at him over my shoulder. “Damon,” I say quietly. “I’m well aware of every obstacle that stands in my way”—I hold his stare—“including you?—”

He opens his mouth but I don’t let him speak.

“—so just shut the fuck up and let me do my job.”

Blue eyes spark with fury, kissable lips press flat, his ever-present frown deepens.

“Joey,” he begins.

And I do the only sensible thing I can?—

I walk away.

But when I glance back at him before I turn the corner…

The look on his face has me falling even deeper.