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Dax always knew when Lucy was around. He recognized the steady click of her high heels, which she never took off. He felt it tingling in his neck, and a turbulent tightening in his stomach.

It was as if she radiated an energy that automatically heightened his awareness. He was certain it was merely his body’s way of protecting him: The Lucy radar was simply vital for his survival, a mechanism that allowed him to mentally prepare for her.

Oh, shit. He should have been long gone. It was already dusk, and practice had been over for an hour. He shouldn’t be leaning against Lucy’s old Honda; he should be sitting on Austin Fox’s couch drinking beer and chatting with the others about who was their most dangerous opponent on the ice this season. However, he couldn’t leave until he talked to her.

Dax knew that Lucy thought he was…well, to put it mildly, an ass. He also knew she had reason to believe so. Their first meeting had been less than ideal. He wasn’t proud of how he’d acted, but it had been his birthday and…well, it should have been Leslie’s or at least Matt’s duty to point out to her that irritating him on that day, of all days, was an incredibly stupid idea.

But no matter their differences, he had always assumed that they had at least one thing in common: the certainty that they didn’t work well together and the certainty that they enjoyed each other’s presence about as much as they enjoyed athlete’s foot.

Which meant there was no way she had agreed to this idiotic plan to play his keeper. He was ninety-nine percent sure Gray was joking. Gray had merely wanted to scare him with the prospect of Lucy James following his every move for the next four weeks.

Still, he needed to be certain, so he could sleep better. He drummed his fingers steadily against his biceps as he watched Lucy approach with long strides, her chin raised as always.

Trying to make herself taller was hopeless. Nothing and no one could hide how short she was. She barely reached his shoulders without shoes, and even with the killer heels, she still had to look up at him. Still, she never showed fear—never backed down, never gave in.

Her face wasn’t soft around him like it was with Matt. Never happy and exuberant like with Gray or Fox. It was hard and impressively unyielding. And when he made her angry—an undertaking that, if he could humbly say so, he excelled at—her light brown eyes darkened to black coal and her red hair glowed.

It was the most fascinating, creepy, and hottest thing he had ever witnessed a woman do.

No. Bullshit. Not the hottest, the most…disturbing. That was the word he was looking for.

She continued to approach him, her eyes fixed on his face, her dark red hair in a ponytail that just brushed her shoulders.

Had she ever worn her hair down? He couldn’t recall. All he knew was that he had never seen her in anything other than a pencil skirt, black heels, and a prudish blouse, the kind that automatically fired up a man’s imagination. And that type of skirt couldn’t hide her curves. He hated the way she dressed. It was torture, a single, perfect provocation. But she had been good at that from the start. Better than anyone in the organization, the entire team included.

“So, I’m a certified PR nightmare who makes marketing angels cry?” he greeted her dryly, pushing himself off the car. He locked his gaze on her already sparkling eyes so they wouldn’t go wandering down her body, like he wanted to do every time he saw her.

“Oh, I’ve never been quoted by a famous hockey player before,” she replied with mock excitement, stopping a foot in front of him. “What an honor.”

He snorted and then asked, “Just out of curiosity, are you one of those angels in this scenario? If so, I find it a bit blasphemous for a messenger of God to be selling a demon—even by your standards.”

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Well, first off, I’m surprised you know the word, especially when you consider how many pucks and fists you’ve taken to the head. Second, the day I cry over a man will never come. And third, what are you doing here? Don’t you want to enjoy your last day of freedom before your marketing angel wraps the chains around you tomorrow?” She pointed with both thumbs at herself.

His stomach clenched as the blood drained from his face. She couldn’t be serious. “You agreed?” he snapped, because, by God, he couldn’t stop himself. “Are you insane? We can’t be joined at the hips for four weeks! We won’t survive.”

To his surprise, he saw the corners of her mouth twitch.

“You know, that’s exactly what I said,” she remarked. “However, Leslie seems to think I am the perfect and only candidate for the job, so…”

He laughed dryly, his hands gripping his biceps. “It is absolutely unnecessary to have a personal PR consultant by my side.”

Lucy frowned and tilted her head. “Is that how Gray put it? I was told I was your babysitter.”

In his fury, Dax’s jaw cracked and his diaphragm constricted. God, she was enjoying this, wasn’t she? “You will tell Leslie that you can’t possibly accept this task,” he replied, his tone dangerously soft, stepping forward so that he loomed over her. He was so close to her that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. “You’re going to make it clear to her that it’s not your job to follow me around—and if you do, I’ll go to the police and report you as a fucking stalker.”

He saw her swallow, but she didn’t back away. She didn’t even blink. Of course she didn’t. She had damn nerves of steel. She was never intimidated by him and that was incredibly unnerving.

“It’s cute how you’re trying to scare me,” she remarked in an overly friendly tone. “But whenever your head is as red as it is now, you remind me of a traffic light…and it’s hard to be intimidated by a traffic light. And, for the record, I’m just as unhappy about the situation as you are.”

He shook his head in irritation. “Then why did you agree?”

“I had no choice!” she exclaimed, aghast. “You know Leslie, right?”

Yes. There was a reason the Hawks called her The Dragon . “Okay, to summarize, I don’t want you to follow me and you don’t want to run after me.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “The solution is simple, stop messing up.”

She said that so easily, but most of the time shit found him on its own. “Sure,” he said and rocked back on his heels. “I’ll do that.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And why don’t I believe you?”

“You’re a good judge of character?”

She sighed. “Leslie is relying on me. This job is important to me. So, I’ll do what I have to do, Dax.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?”

“Because you’re a good judge of character?”

He snorted, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching—the traitors. “Okay, listen,” he said, raising his hands defensively. It was time to change course. He knew Lucy better than he liked. If Leslie gave her a task, she would complete it diligently, no matter what she had to do to get it done. “I understand. Really. You live for your job. I live for my job. Both of us dislike someone meddling or having an annoying dwarf making our lives difficult, but…”

“Ah, Dax, you don’t have to call yourself a dwarf. Your emotional intelligence might be small, but at least physically, you’re the hockey standard,” she interjected.

“But…” he continued, undeterred, “if we want to make it through the next few weeks alive, maybe we should…lay down some ground rules.” He couldn’t prevent the catastrophe, but he could mitigate it.

“Rules?” she repeated skeptically, crossing her arms. “What rules?”

“Rules that make it easier for us to do our jobs and not go crazy,” he clarified. The latter was the most important thing. “Let’s start with three.” That’s the most he was going to remember, honestly. “And for every rule I make, you can make one too. Deal?”

Lucy’s eyes were still narrowed suspiciously, but she nodded slowly. “Give me an example.”

He ran his hands through his hair as he briefly thought about what would bother him the most. It didn’t take long to find the answer.

“Okay, for example, my first rule would be: What I do with whom in my hotel room, on the plane, or on the bus is my business,” he explained briefly. “I don’t want you breathing down my neck every second we’re on the road at away games. I need to be able to relax as I see fit. Otherwise, I’ll play like crap and no one wants that.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully and tapped her chin with her index finger. “Well, technically Leslie instructed me to stop you from drinking, dating, and generally screwing around, but…I guess that’s fair.”

Hell, she was literally the only PR person he knew who would say screwing around so casually. They were usually particular about their choice of words.

“Okay,” she added after a while, “there are no photographers on the plane or bus, and if you are discreet about the hotel room and no journalist notices, we shouldn’t have a problem. But if someone notices…” She frowned and looked at him almost apologetically—almost. “Well, in that case, I’d have to spring into action and stop you, and that’d get ugly.”

It wasn’t a threat; it was a promise. And shit, he believed her. Although, admittedly, he would like to see her try.

“Okay, now you can make your first rule,” he said, nodding at her.

“You have to stop calling me Luna,” came out of her like a shot.

He found it hard to suppress a smile. “Well,” he drawled, “it’s your God-given name, after all, so…”

“Okay, this negotiation is over,” she said flatly and tried to push past him to get to her car.

He laughed. “Okay, okay. Lucy, wait!” He quickly reached out, caught her wrist, and pulled her back. It felt absurdly delicate and fragile between his rough fingers. Sometimes he forgot that he could hurt her rather easily even though she was stronger than most people he knew.

The warmth of her skin transferred to his while the smell of lemon and something else sweet filled his nose…

He quickly let go. No physical contact. That should also be a rule, but it might send the wrong message.

“Lucy,” he repeated loudly so she knew he was serious. “Sorry. Of course, I will stop calling you Luna.”

“Great,” she said with hostility, rubbing the wrist he had grabbed. Had he hurt her? Or was she merely trying to wipe away his touch? “While we’re at it, I can tell you rule two straight away because it’s related.”

He raised his eyebrows. "And that is?”

“You must treat me with respect in front of the other players.” Her chin slid a little higher. “You will no longer embarrass me in front of them, you won’t undermine my authority, and you won’t give me a hard time. When the team or anyone from the organization is around, you’re going to suppress every mean thing that goes swirling through your mind."

“Hm,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He guessed it was a fair request on her part…but at the same time, it was a real shame because it was fun to make her cheeks light up. And seeing Lucy open her mouth in embarrassment, lick her full lips, and close them again without saying a word was also something he would miss. Nonetheless, he nodded. “No problem.”

Her expression darkened. “If it’s not a problem, why can’t you ever hold back?”

He grinned. “For the same reason you can’t: because it’s too damn funny.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she quickly averted her face.

Yep, he was right. She enjoyed making him look like a fool, too. “Okay,” she said after a while, her expression once again nothing but professional. “What’s your second rule?”

“My sister.”

“What about her?”

“When I spend time with Anna, you won’t be within a ten-mile radius.”

Dissatisfied, she frowned. “But you can just as easily get drunk, pick up women, and run amok while your sister is around.”

He snorted loudly and his shoulders stiffened. What kind of asshole did she think he was? There wasn’t much in life that was important to him besides ice hockey and Anna. Even Lucy should know he wasn’t that big of a bastard.

“Do you know what my sister looks like, Lun…” He cleared his throat. “Lucy?”

She opened her mouth in surprise. “Uh, no.”

“Exactly,” he answered curtly. “And why is that? Because I would never bring her into my damn press circus.”

She nodded slowly. “Understood. Okay. If you’re with your sister, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Wonderful.” He breathed out in relief. “My final rule: Jack West.”

“Yeah, I know the name. Why does he get his own rule?”

“Because I don’t want you to use him to improve my image. I don’t want to go out to dinner with him so that the press believes we’re friends. I don’t want to pose for photos with him at parties, I will not answer interview questions that include his name, I won’t hug him, and I won’t pretend to be amazed by his talent or his sparkling personality. No matter how you plan to make me seem like an angel, he will not be a part of that plan.”

He could tell from her disgruntled expression that she had intended to do just that.

“Well,” she said slowly, taking a deep breath, “to be honest, that could be a problem, especially since Leslie is expecting you tomorrow at ten for the press conference where his trade to the Hawks will be announced. Jack West will also be attending and there will definitely be photos taken of you two, and I bet you will be expected to at least say something like; I have always respected him as a worthy opponent . I can’t possibly protect you from that.”

Fuck.

Groaning, he rubbed his face with both hands. He should have expected that. Obviously, the press would race to get a picture of them together. Naturally, over the next few weeks, every sports show would be asking the same question: Can Devil and Saint work together on the ice? Will the Hawks owner’s controversial purchase hurt or benefit the team?

“But…” Lucy continued hurriedly. “You don’t have to give an individual interview if you don’t want to. And the conference lasts a maximum of ten minutes and…” She sighed heavily. “If you want, I can direct one question to you and dismiss the rest or pass them on to Gray or Jack West.”

That wouldn’t be enough. Just like all the time in the world wasn’t enough to prepare for tomorrow.

However, it wasn’t Lucy’s fault. For once. In fact, her offer was almost…kind. Granted, he was reluctant to use that word and her name in the same sentence.

“Fine,” he conceded begrudgingly. He had to see the guy again at some point. “But after that, nothing more with Jack West in the title.”

Lucy peered curiously into his face for a few seconds. “He’s definitely under your skin, isn’t he?” she mused finally.

“No,” he lied. “He’s simply an asshole, that’s all.”

She didn’t believe him, but she was nice enough to drop the matter. “Deal. No Jack West. But you’ll have to visit one more children’s hospital.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said impatiently. “So, what’s your final rule?” He looked at her expectantly.

“Oh, right…” She cleared her throat and combed her ponytail with her fingers. “Well, I have to take care of some…private matters during the next few weeks,” she finally said hesitantly. “Attend appointments I cannot cancel or postpone. And…” She paused, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “Well, it’s not really a rule, maybe more of a request…” Visibly uncomfortable, she wrung her hands and took a deep breath. “Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m not there to straighten it out, okay? Because you’re right, my work is my life. But sometimes I can’t…sometimes I have other priorities, and it would be great if you didn’t use that against me.”

Dax opened his mouth, surprised by the uncertainty in her big brown eyes. The sharpness in her tone was gone as was the hardness in her face. There was nothing left but raw emotion. Was that fear? Or hope? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“What exactly do you mean?” he asked tonelessly.

“At times, I have to…” She stopped and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I have to do. I’ll let you know if I’m not available and at that time, it would be great if you could just keep a low profile. Or at least message me if you feel like you absolutely have to go out. So I can…make other arrangements.”

He leaned forward curiously. Lucy was a lot of things but never mysterious. “What kind of private matter is it?”

She didn’t look at him. Instead, she looked past him at her car.

He paused. It wasn’t like her to avoid his gaze. It made her seem…vulnerable, a state Lucy was categorically never willing to show him.

“All I can say is it’s private,” she said with emphasis. “But it’s important to me, and…yeah, if I text you that I’m not available, don’t let yourself be photographed with two brunettes on your arms and a Pepsi in your hand.”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like the whole thing, that she disguised it as a request. Plus, she was revealing there was something else more important to her than her job. He realized that he had simply never seen her as a person with…well, a life outside of the organization. Obviously, she had one, he just had absolutely no idea what it looked like. Maybe he’d have to ask Matt about that, in order to…

No . Ridiculous. He wasn’t at all interested.

“Fine,” he said tersely. “I’ll manage.”

“Great.” She looked visibly relieved. “That’s everything, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…don’t you still need my private phone number to send me those legendary warnings?”

She waved it off. “No, I already have it.”

“Seriously?” Only a handful of people had his private number—not even all of the Hawks players had it.

“Yup. Of course,” she said cheerfully, and Dax was almost relieved that she had returned to her smug, unassailable self. “I know your shoe size, most of the names of the women you’ve slept with, and I even have a key to your loft. So I’m fully equipped.”

He snorted loudly. A key to his loft. Sure.

“Okay, then text me so I have yours to…let you know when I want to go out.” The words tasted so bitter on his tongue that he frowned. Shit, it was ridiculous. He seriously needed permission to go out drinking now?!

As if Lucy had read his thoughts, she said, “It’s best if you don’t drink today. When the season starts, you’ll be mostly abstinent anyway, but it would be nice if tomorrow’s photos with Jack West didn’t look like you spent the night in a beer keg.”

“Of course. No party for me,” he said dryly, raising his hand and turning his back on her.

Great. For the next four weeks, he would have a babysitter and Jack on his back. So at least for now, he was going to do the only sensible thing left: He headed to Fox’s for one last blast.

Alcohol might not be the solution—but damn it, it helped!