On the Fly (Crimson Romance) by Katie Kenyhercz

basis with Phlynn. What are the grounds for that, and do you call all of your players by their first names?”
    Her cheeks warmed. She couldn’t help it and hoped to hell that it didn’t show on camera. “Phlynn was the first team member I met, and I do like to refer to everyone by his first name. Although, I guess I learned the hard way that there are no first names in hockey.” More laughter, and Jacey relaxed a bit. The waving hands resumed and she nodded to a man in a bright red shirt and khaki sports coat.
    “Ms. Vaughn, your father was an important man in the Rockers’ and Sinners’ history. If he were here now, what do you think he’d say?”
    That question gave her pause, and she fought the wave of sadness that rolled in her chest. When she found her voice, it was soft and thoughtful. “I think he’d say, ‘It was the end of the third period, and my girl was dealt a rough hand, but she evened the score. I know she’ll get ‘em in overtime.’ And I hope I do.”
    A younger reporter, possibly a college intern, shouted from the back, “Is that a metaphor for winning the Stanley Cup?”
    She just smiled and nodded politely to the media circus. “Thank you for coming, but I’ve got work to do.”
    A chorus of “Just one more question” rang out, but Jacey turned on her heel and strode back into the building, resisting the urge to dance while she could still possibly be caught on camera. The blast of air conditioning also improved her mood. She let out a long breath, heard quick clomping beside her, and glanced over to see Nealy, smiling for once.
    “You did it, kid. I almost believed it myself. And I really think they did believe it, the stupid, pea-brained vultures.”
    Jacey smirked and shook her head, walking toward the bank of elevators. “You should believe it; it was true.”
    “Mmmhmm.” They stepped into the elevator. Feeling a rush of relief and pride over how she’d handled the situation, she smiled to herself as she watched the buttons light up. Nealy lightly socked her shoulder as the elevator opened, and they went into their respective offices. When Jacey closed the door behind her, she thudded her head back against it and closed her eyes.
    • • •
    Three minutes after five, Jacey hummed to herself as she stood organizing her briefcase. She heard her door click and turned to see a grinning Phlynn. Leaving it open a crack, he took two long strides and kissed her briefly but thoroughly. It happened so fast she only got flashes of sensation: the abrasive scruff on his chin, the surprising softness of his lips, the warmth in his hands that circled her whole waist. The shock of it prevented any action for the first five seconds, but when the stars faded from her swimming vision, she pushed against his biceps and stared at him, agape. Her gaze cut to the open door, and she maneuvered around him to close it before she pinned him with an accusing stare. “Are you freaking crazy?” she whispered.
    Amusement sparked in his eyes and curled his lips as he ignored her. “You were brilliant. We were watching in the weight room. I even almost believed it. All of the guys did. Maybe now they’ll finally stop busting my balls.”
    She held back an out-of-place giggle, although she couldn’t refrain from smiling in spite of herself. “That’s great. But you have to leave. Now. Or you’ll undo all the good I did.”
    His gaze turned thoughtful, and he took two slow steps toward her. She swallowed and straightened her back against the door. “Hey, now … You just stay there.”
    Carter grinned and took another step. “She tells me to leave, then she blocks the door. And they say men send mixed signals.”
    Heat flooded her face, but before she could slide out of his way, he closed the distance to hold her in place and lowered his head so his nose brushed hers. Their lips were centimeters apart. Jacey’s heart slammed, and her ability to think short-circuited as she felt his warm breath