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“Where’s Dax?”

“I don’t know,” Matt muttered absently, peering skeptically at the red, lumpy substance on his spoon. “This is a five-star hotel, right? Then why is the soup cold?”

“It’s gazpacho. A soup from Southern Spain,” she replied impatiently.

“And it got cold on the flight over, or what?” he asked glumly.

“Matt! Where is Dax? I can’t reach him. He isn’t at the table and he’s not answering the phone. Where is he? And the soup should be cold! It’s intentional. That’s how you eat it.” Lucy lifted her chin and scanned the hotel restaurant, which was filled with tall, broad men. But the one she was seeking wasn’t among them. Usually, Dax wasn’t that hard to find. He was the kind of man who immediately stood out in a crowd. Right now, all that meant was that he wasn’t here.

“Mm-hm,” Matt said absently, lowering the spoon to look at her thoughtfully across the table. “You seem nervous.”

“Because Dax isn’t here!” And she had an incredibly bad feeling about it. The game had been terrible, watching Dax on the ice pure torture. It had been worse than a traffic accident. He had to be frustrated and angry—and frustrated, angry people didn’t make the best decisions. Frustrated, angry, and rich ice hockey players were even worse.

“Isn’t it your job to always know where he is?” Matt inquired. “So why are you bothering me with this question when you should know the answer?”

She pursed her lips and glared at him. “He’s your best friend and I had a job to do right after the game. I had to reassure the press that Dax’s total disaster on the ice tonight had nothing to do with Jack West at all!”

“But it did,” Matt protested.

“I know that,” she snapped. “But the press doesn’t have to know that! And do you seriously have no idea where he is? Or are you just not telling me because he asked you not to?”

Matt sighed and pushed the soup away. “Oh, no, no. I’m not getting involved in this ridiculous power struggle you’ve been waging for eleven months! If you must know, the last time I saw him was an hour ago. I asked him if he wanted to play some darts. Thought he could use the distraction. But he declined. He’ll be in his room recovering from the day.”

“No, he’s not.” She occupied the room next to his and had knocked several times in a way that couldn’t be ignored. “Did he happen to look like he was planning to do something stupid?”

Matt laughed loudly. “He always looks like he’s planning to do something stupid. That’s what his face looks like.”

Sighing, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “You’re not being helpful, you know,” she announced dryly as she searched her apps and found what she was looking for.

She had hoped it would never come to this, but… Unfortunately, Dax gave her no other choice.

“Oh my God, did you hack his phone and put a tracking app on it?” Matt asked incredulously, leaning forward so he could peer at her screen, where a map of the area had appeared.

“Nonsense. It’s not hacking if you know the password,” she murmured absently. “And it’s not a tracking app. It’s called Find my Friends .”

“But he’s not friends with you,” Matt said, stating the obvious, his eyes as big as the soup bowl. “Oh shit, he has no idea, does he?”

“Of course he has no idea,” she replied angrily, watching for the red dot on the map that would tell her Dax’s whereabouts. “I’m not an amateur. And honestly, if you use your last two jersey numbers as your password, it’s your own fault.”

It was clear he wasn’t at the hotel, but he wasn’t far, either. He was in a place called the Snow Hut. A bar. Crap. The only thing Dax did in bars was drink and pick up women. Since he wasn’t drinking at the moment…

“Shit.” She jumped up from her chair. “I knew I should have bought a taser. Ah, whatever, I’ll find another way to take him down.”

Matt’s eyes widened. “Fuck, Dax and Maddie are right, you’re crazy. At least, as far as he’s concerned. I always believed they were exaggerating, but… Nuh-uh. Your marbles have definitely rolled under the radiator!”

“I haven’t lost my marbles! I’m simply very engaged. With my job,” she clarified. “And why are you talking about me to my sister?”

“She asked how things were going with you and Dax.” He shrugged.

“So why doesn’t she ask me ?”

“Because I’m a lot more honest and entertaining than you,” he explained sagely.

Lucy snorted and gave him the middle finger. “I don’t like this bromance between you and Maddie at all! Now leave me alone—I have to prevent a catastrophe.” The next moment, she was hurrying toward the exit.

“You’re acting like a stalker, Lucy!” Matt shouted after her.

“Eat your soup, Matt, before it gets cold.”

“But it’s already cold! I told you that.”

Lucy stopped answering and sped up.

The problem was cut-and-dried: Dax was hot and in a bar. Alone. Even if he didn’t intend to pick someone up, it wouldn’t take long for someone to pick him up.

Groaning, she ran her hands through her hair. It didn’t matter if he was angry or in a bad mood, the bastard was irresistible and he would get what he wanted. How fortunate that it was her job to prevent him from making these kinds of mistakes.

The Snow Hut didn’t deserve its dreamy-sounding name. Death Hut or Wrong Decision Hut would have been much more apt. The walls were plastered with dead animals, death metal was blaring from the speakers, and it smelled as if someone had vomited on the sticky wooden floor, the stench redoubled with a beer-soaked mop.

The light was hazy and the company questionable. Lucy would have preferred to be anywhere else. But she wasn’t here to have fun, she was here to piss Dax off and then escort him back to the hotel.

The only good thing about this bar was that Lucy hadn’t seen a single journalist. But that was a small consolation, because there were enough outside the hotel that if Dax wanted to take anyone to his room, the press would find out.

Frustration and restlessness filled her.

She believed she had made progress with Dax last week, but she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly that progress was. Matt was right, they weren’t friends, but at least they had…expressed mutual respect for each other, right?

Dax had behaved for her sake, and she had encouraged him. She had also kept his secret to herself. Wasn’t that worth something?

She stood on her tiptoes—wishing for the umpteenth time that her legs were about eight inches longer—as she searched for Dax’s dark head.

Maybe he was sitting innocently alone at the bar. Maybe she had judged him too quickly. Maybe he didn’t want to pick anyone up. Maybe he was simply having a quiet…

She spotted him at one of the square tables and the thought dissolved.

Nope. He was here to arrange a one-night stand. No question. Across from him sat a blonde with long legs, flushed cheeks, and a plunging neckline.

Lucy’s stomach clenched uncomfortably and a bitter feeling that felt suspiciously like disappointment spread through her.

It wasn’t fair that the leggy blondes always won, that they always got the hottest men while Lucy didn’t get a second glance… Wait a minute…

Lucy shook her head, irritated by her thoughts.

Of course, the blonde wasn’t winning . That would mean that Dax was the prize, and that Lucy was annoyed that he didn’t give her a second look…which was complete and utter bullshit! Dax Temple was an arrogant prick who was ruining her job. His ego definitely deserved a little dent!

She lifted her chin, shrugged out of her jacket to make it look like she intended to stay, drew herself up to her full unimpressive height, and strutted across the room.

On her way to Dax’s table, she pulled her mother’s ring off her middle finger, slipped it onto the next, and stretched the corners of her mouth a little to make the smile seem genuine.

She searched for a chair to pull up, but there wasn’t one available nearby. No matter, she already knew exactly the right place to take a seat.

“Hey, darling,” she said breathlessly as she reached Dax’s table. “Here you are.”

Dax’s head whipped around and he stared up at her, mouth gaping. Lucy was shameless and smart enough to take advantage of his temporary speechlessness.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she continued. “My goodness, my feet are killing me. Then again, you told me I shouldn’t wear high heels in my condition, no matter how sexy they make me look. God, I have to sit down.”

The next moment, she wrapped an arm around his neck, sank into his lap, and beamed up at him. Then, she turned to the blonde, who was looking at her like she had a pumpkin for a head. “And who’s this? Nice of you to keep him company while I was otherwise occupied!”

“Um, I…” Uncertain, the woman looked from Dax’s still-shocked face to Lucy and back. “I’m Brandy.” She reached out a hand hesitantly and Lucy took it.

Damn. The blonde was actually nice and didn’t deserve this scene. Lucy, however, had to prioritize the man who was currently digging his fingers into her hip.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dax hissed in her ear.

She was free to ignore him. Instead, she slumped heavily into the forced embrace so that Dax couldn’t just shove her off his lap, and continued, “Brandy! What a pretty name. Oh, it’s so nice to get out again. Life just hasn’t been the same since the twins were born last year.” She laughed, reaching for the Coke on the table in front of Dax and taking a sip before shifting on his lap to get into a more comfortable position.

Goodness, Dax’s legs were hard, just as hard as the chest she was leaning against. She swallowed and kept her gaze focused on Brandy. She had forgotten what muscles felt like and the heat radiating from this man could have eaten through clothes like wildfire. Oh, and what it felt like to have strong fingers digging into her flesh—even if they weren’t doing it out of desire, but anger. It was easy enough to reframe it, though. Way too easy.

“What are you talking about?” Dax said, trying to push her away, but she clung to his shoulders like they were a cliff she was hanging from.

“Obviously, we’ve hardly seen friends since Rex and Reilly were born,” she elaborated. “They’re a blessing, definitely, but now that the third one is on the way…” She placed a hand on her stomach, sighing, “…it’s getting harder and harder to find time for ourselves. Or just meet new people.” She smiled brightly at Brandy, who glared at Dax with a disgusted expression.

“You have a pregnant wife,” she said flatly.

“Apparently,” he said between his teeth. “Even though I’m surprised by it every day. Because, man, it all happened really fast.”

“I bewitched him with just one look,” Lucy explained, batting her eyelashes.

“Yes. The witch part is right,” he replied darkly, then added more quietly, “And witches belong at the stake.”

Lucy laughed nervously and shifted from left to right again. “Such a charmer! But he truly is the best husband,” she said dreamily. “And such a great father.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dax growled. “I’m currently considering using violence as an educational measure.”

She laughed, grabbed his hand, and squeezed it tightly to make it look like they were constantly exchanging caresses—and so he couldn’t put his idea of violence into immediate action. Dax frequently got into fistfights on the ice, and she suddenly feared he might be emancipated enough not to differentiate between women and men when it came to throwing punches.

“Unbelievable,” the blonde said curtly and abruptly rose. She shoved an index finger in Dax’s face. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Yes, that’s the general opinion,” Dax replied without batting an eye.

The blonde laughed mirthlessly and addressed Lucy, “Good luck with him.” The next moment, she was headed for the door.

Lucy breathed out in relief. That worked well, she congratulated herself.

“Stop shifting around like that,” Dax hissed, pushing her off his lap.

“You’re just uncomfortable with the entire situation. Twinge of conscience,” she replied, defending herself as she hung her jacket over the newly vacated seat.

“Take a damn chair next time!” he snapped, slamming his hands on the table, his blue eyes almost black. “Oh yeah, and also: how do you feel about leaving me the fuck alone with your shit?”

“Not good,” she admitted, sinking into Brandy’s chair.

“Yeah, seems about right,” he replied hostilely. “So how the hell did you find me?”

“Female intuition?”

Dax stared at her with his eyes narrowed. She could practically hear the wheels in his head turning. In the next moment, he pulled out his phone and swiped across the screen.

“Unbelievable,” he said tonelessly, a muscle in his jaw bulging. “You installed a tracker on my phone?”

“It’s the Find my Friends app,” she protested.

“We’re not friends, Lucy!” he snapped.

She tilted her head, frowning. “Why does everyone keep telling me that today?”

Dax laughed dryly and sank his hands into his hair. “Good God, you’re crazy. What exactly is going on in that head of yours, can you explain it to me? Because, shit, this is too much, Lucy! Way too much. You have crossed the line so far you, you can’t even see it anymore.”

She pressed her lips together and leaned forward. “I warned you, Dax. I told you that I take my job seriously and that I will do everything I can to satisfy Leslie’s mission. You, however, seem to have forgotten that, along with our agreement.” She gritted her teeth. “No affairs, no one-night stands. Those were the rules.”

“And we also had an agreement that I could do whatever I wanted in my hotel room,” he fired back.

“Does this look like your hotel room?” Lucy asked incredulously, spreading her arms.

Dax was silent for a few seconds—unsettlingly, dangerously quiet. Then he smiled. It was a small, condescending smile that pierced her temples like pins.

“It doesn’t matter, Lucy,” he whispered smugly. “What you just did may have scared away Brandy, but there are plenty of other women here.”

She looked at him thoughtfully, then checked out the room, where there were indeed far too many pretty women. “You’re absolutely right,” she said, nodding firmly. “I'd better eliminate all threats at once, right?”

Perplexed, he looked at her for a second. “What are you talking about? What…”

She didn’t let him finish. Instead, she rose, pulled out the chair, and climbed onto it so she could command the entire room. “Listen up, everyone,” she shouted, her voice echoing off the sticky walls as the entire bar turned to face her. “This is my friend Steven.” She pointed to Dax. “He’s just finished treatment for a severe sex addiction and it would be great if you all could help him avoid a relapse today.” She placed a hand on her chest before continuing in a dramatic voice, “He has made such great progress over the last year, it would be a shame if he…”

Suddenly the air was knocked out of her lungs as Dax wrapped one of his strong arms around her middle and pulled her from the chair. She lost her footing and uttered a distorted oof sound as her stomach made the acquaintance of his muscular shoulder.

“Okay, enough,” he growled.

“No, no, I think some of the women in the restroom didn’t hear me!” she immediately contradicted him, struggling against his grip. But she stood no chance against him. Unlike her, Dax had muscles—way too many of them.

“What the hell are you doing?” she gasped, tilting her head back so it wouldn’t collide with Dax’s back as he carried her across the room, slung over his shoulder like a wet sack of rice. His arm pressed against her thighs to keep her from tumbling backward onto the floor.

“I’m eliminating the danger,” he growled.

“Put me down!” she demanded loudly, trying to look around the bar for help, but by then, Dax had already carried her out the door.

Cold wind blew under her skirt and she winced. “Shit, that’s cold.”