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She headed toward the check-in desk, tentatively circling past a few open meeting room doors to buy herself some thinking time. A sign on a tripod said SPCSN: Sunshine: Parents of Children with Special Needs. Various sessions were listed below in smaller font.

Long tables stretched across the room to her right, with an aisle down the middle that led to the lectern. In a second room, a cluster of people were seated near the center.

She continued past, then slowed her steps, processing what she’d seen.

Wide shoulders. Longish black hair that touched the edge of his Dragons jersey.

Dragons jersey?

Chadwick?

She stopped. No.

There was no way.

She tried to keep going, but found herself taking several steps backward so she could peer through the doorway again.

His deep voice reached her. Too low for her to make out the words, but she understood the soothing tone.

She stepped inside without thinking.

As though feeling her gaze on him, Chad looked up, dropping the hand that had been rubbing the back of a tearful woman in her fifties.

Others in the room followed his attention, and soon a dozen sets of eyes were on her.

Some were wet or rimmed with red, and a box of tissues rested on one of the tables.

“Sorry,” Athena said uncertainly. Everything she’d planned to say to Chad fled, along with her anger.

No, she was still angry. If he was speaking at a conference or whatever it was, he could have let her know.

But he wasn’t speaking, was he?

What was this? Did he have a child? She’d sensed something out of sync with his playboy persona. Was it fatherhood?

Maybe everything she’d assumed about him was wrong. Maybe he was the father of a special-needs child and she’d just walked in on his big secret.

But the most worrisome idea whirling through her head was that maybe—just maybe—her crush wasn’t that out of place after all.

By the time Mullens caught up with Athena she was in her arena office, slamming her hand down on a hole punch, her brow furrowed.

He watched from the doorway as she yanked the papers out, ripping a few in the process.

She let out a cute growl, then took a new sheaf of papers and shoved them into the device.

Before she could destroy that batch, he slipped into the room and gently laid a hand over hers.

He took the stack, culled it down to half before completing the job and neatly setting the papers on her desk.

“Sorry I missed the shoot,” he said quietly, taking a step back.

She planted her right hand on her hip and tipped her head, looking at him with those dark eyes. The stage makeup they’d put on her was for the most part wiped away, but her lashes were still thick and long, creating big-eyed pools that gutted him.

“Why?” she asked, her tone just as careful as his own.

“What?” He’d been expecting a fight and her calmness left him off balance. “Because it’s important to you.”

“No. Why did you skip out? I know you were there before our shoot time. I missed shopping for card readers with my sister because I stuck around waiting for you. Why’d you leave before I arrived?”

“Oh.” He rubbed his eyes and exhaled, suddenly exhausted. “I messed up my schedule. Right place, wrong time.”

Whenever he dealt with something connected to his late sister, Evonne, he got a little fuzzy in the head and messed stuff up. He felt like he was a scared, lost kid all over again.

He hated it.

And he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it with Athena.

“You were supposed to be at a conference before the shoot?” she asked.

He nodded once. “Quick photo op.”

“For what?”

“Just handing over a check. A post-Christmas, year-end gift.” He smiled as if the donation was all about getting a bit of tax relief from Uncle Sam. “Hey, so I’m wondering if we can reschedule the photographers and ask them to come here. Save you some time and hassle.”

“That wasn’t a photo op I walked in on at the conference center.”

“I got to talking,” he said, not willing to get into how he knew those kind, hurting people. He gave what he hoped was his usual cavalier grin. “You know how it is, being famous.”

“No, I don’t, actually.”

“Well, you soon will! We’re going to take this cookbook to the moon for you.” He edged toward the door. “And since I know you’re busy, and I let you down, I’ll get it all sorted out, okay?”

“Chad?”

He paused, hovering on the threshold. So close to safety. “Hmm?”

“Are you a dad?”

Athena parked her car—which had somehow magically filled itself with boxes of books from her office—and hustled to the building that held the Dragons’ head offices.

Her mind was a swirling mess, as it had been for the past several days—ever since she’d found Chad being cried on at the conference for parents of special-needs children.

Who on earth was Chadwick Mullens? Who was he really ?

He’d laughed at her when she’d asked if he was a father. Laughed .

She’d been softening toward him, believing that if he was the dad of such a child, it could explain that sensitive side he studiously hid from the world. And maybe even explain that hint of lost little boy she sometimes saw flickering in his light brown eyes.

But she’d been duped. He wasn’t a dad, and he’d left her office clearly amused.

The man was hiding something. But if not a child, then what?

She wanted to box him up, write him off and move on. But the intriguing, infuriating unknowns that kept popping up were driving her crazy. What if he was a nice guy and she was dismissing him for all the wrong reasons?

Then again, what man hid who he really was from the world or those who knew him?

And why would she even want to spend time around someone who didn’t show her respect in the workplace?

Because he was hot, mysterious, and had stood up for her with Nuvella and Howell?

Yeah, that was a lame set of reasons.

She grumbled to herself and hoped her meeting with Nuvella and Daisy-Mae Ray would go well.

If the two women weren’t on the same page as she was about promoting her new cookbook, it was going to turn into a big mess.

It had all been so much easier before Chad had gotten involved. Just her and a few NHL mucky-mucks.

As she neared the building, she lifted her oversized sunglasses. A familiar, wide-shouldered man was at the base of the concrete steps.

Chad Mullens.

How was he everywhere—except at important photo shoots? Which still hadn’t been rescheduled because of his apparently fully booked calendar.

Athena drew closer, rolling her eyes. Was he signing something for the man in the wheelchair? As if Chad needed his ego padded any further.

No. There was no autographing happening. They were gesturing to the left, where a crew was resurfacing the wheelchair ramp, and Athena tensed. Inaccessible buildings were a hot button now that her mother often relied on a wheelchair when a lot of walking was involved in her outings.

Before Athena could reach the duo, Chad flagged down a man in a suit, gesturing where to grab the chair on the opposite side.

“Tina, hold his briefcase, would you?” he commanded.

Before she could think or react, she was holding the black leather case, and Chad and the stranger were lifting the chair, passenger and all, straight up the steps.

Athena followed slowly, admiring Chad’s problem-solving skills and compassion. The two men set down the wheelchair and passenger, and Chad pushed the automatic door opener, gesturing for Athena to follow the man inside.

Dang it. She was going to have to rethink her frustration and anger with Chad once again, wasn’t she?

“Hey, Tina.”

Nope. Maybe not.

He was still as irritating as an anthill under a picnic blanket. His agent had obviously coached him to perform enough good deeds that the public didn’t hate or resent him. “You keeping that briefcase, Tina?”

Realizing she was hugging the stranger’s case, she jerked, then thrust it at the amused man. Ignoring Chad, she pivoted and beelined across the lobby, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

While she waited for the elevator, she heard Chad’s deep voice as he spoke to the security guard posted a few feet inside the doors. “Can you let him out the back exit after his meeting? The front ramp’s out of commission.”

The elevator doors opened and Athena walked in, surprisingly disappointed that Chad wouldn’t be riding up with her. She jabbed the button for Nuvella’s floor.

The security guard’s voice carried across the tiled entry. “We don’t let people in, but we always let them out.”

Male laughter filtered toward her.

Just before the elevator closed, an arm reached out, causing the doors to jerk open again. Chad squeezed his way in. “Hey. Going up?”

“Only direction possible.” She pushed the Open button. “Is your friend coming?”

“Who?”

She gestured to the lobby, where the man he’d helped was still joking with the security guard.

“He’ll catch the next one.” Chad reached across her and hit Close. “Got a meeting? Or do you have an office in here, too?”

“Meeting.”

“Me, too.”

“With Nuvella?” she asked, facing him, dread and hope battling it out in her chest.

“Miranda.” The team’s owner.

Athena smiled, hoping it was that sharkish one he feared. “So today you get fired?”

He scoffed. “Never. I’m also meeting with Dak.”

Miranda’s boyfriend, who ran the team’s sick kids’ charity. Interesting.

She hated to admit it, but all Chad had to do was tenderly hold a kitten and her ovaries would probably claim they had descended from seahorses and, like seahorses, mated for life, and he was their chosen one.

Good thing it was too early in the year for a litter of kittens to be dropped into his lap.

“Another photo op?” she asked, filling the silence.

“Nope.”

“Wait…” She felt a wicked grin spread across her face. “The big bad playboy is going to donate all of his fancy cars to the Dragons’ charity?”

He laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Not even one?”

He tipped his head as though considering it, then gave a small shake.

“How many do you have?”

“Three.”

“Three cars for one little man?”

His brows lowered and his shoulders seemed to expand several inches with his next intake of breath. “I can hardly call myself little. And yes. Three.”

“Why?”

“In case one breaks down.”

She waited for him to laugh, to admit that he reveled in the status of owning three luxury cars. Or maybe he enjoyed throwing his money around, or needed the cars to match his top three moods or outfit vibes, or some such thing.

But no. That was his answer, and gazing at him, she understood that it was the actual, real reason.

She was tempted to tease him about what might be a misplaced fear of abandonment—by his vehicle on the side of the road with nobody who loved him enough to come rescue him—but resisted. Partly because she understood that helpless feeling of a vehicle letting you down.

The doors opened on the wrong floor and he hit the Close button again.

“So you’re going to go hang out with sick kids?” she asked, referring to his meeting with Miranda and Dak.

Some of the players had been doing hospital visits, brightening the days of ill children as part of the team’s charity.

After seeing Chad help the stranger in the wheelchair, as well as talking with the parents of special-needs children at the conference center, him being involved didn’t seem like such a crazy idea.

“Not today.” He clasped his hands in front of him as he watched the floors light up on the panel above as they began to move again.

“Monetary donations?” she asked, feeling as though her gentle ribbing to pass the time had become more of a burning curiosity.

“Do they need money?” He swiveled to face her, his expression serious.

She sensed that if she named a sum he’d donate that amount to the charity. She shrugged. “Probably.”

He was watching her out the side of his eyes.

His gaze traced from her bare toes peeking out of the bottom of her black stovepipe pants to her white silk, sleeveless blouse with the high neck and open back.

Then up to the ballerina bun she’d wrangled her hair in, leaving several curly tendrils to frame her jaw.

“You’re wearing your earrings wrong.”

Her fingers flew to the hockey sticks. How could you wear earrings wrong?

And why did he have to catch her wearing them? She knew she should have buried them in the bottom of her sock drawer so she could forget all about them and never give him the satisfaction of knowing she actually liked them.

“Here.” He shifted so he was standing in front of her, her back to the elevator wall. When his large hands reached for her face she tensed, thinking for a moment that he was going to kiss her.

He huffed out a laugh. “Relax, Tina.” He gently plucked the earrings from her ears, palming the jewelry.

For a big burly hockey player, he was surprisingly tender.

He took one of the earrings, and with a gentle and, strangely erotic tug, slid the hook into place before repeating his actions on the opposite side. His gaze slipped to hers, his moves leisurely.

“Much better.”

The elevator doors opened, but neither of them budged.

“The hockey sticks should face inward.”

“Oh.”

The doors closed. The elevator moved downward again.

“They were expensive, weren’t they?” she asked, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

“I have a deal,” he said automatically. She wasn’t certain if he truly had some sort of bulk discount with a jeweler—he might, given the number of women who normally hung around him. But she got the feeling he was actually masking something.

His warm palms had settled on her shoulders. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he slid his hands upward until they were cupping her head, his thumbs caressing her jaw.

She held her breath as his body pressed against hers.

Her eyelids drifted lower.

The doors dinged open again, and sounds from the lobby filled the elevator. Chad blinked, stepping backward.

He cleared his throat, then got out on the wrong floor.