On the Fly (Crimson Romance) by Katie Kenyhercz Page A

tickle her skin. He smelled of earth and spice like a deep, dark forest. And he was the big, bad wolf. So close. If she just tilted her head up …
    Carter leaned in, but just before their lips touched, he pulled back slightly and whispered. “G’night, boss.” Smiling, he reached around her to open the door and let himself out.
    Shaking, Jacey released a slow, deep breath and held her forehead in her hand. “I’m so toast.”

Chapter Thirteen
    Thursday, October 13th
    The beeping alarm tore Jacey from an engaging dream involving an empty locker room, a certain captain fresh from the showers, and a wet towel that just wouldn’t stay tied. She thrashed around in her sheets then opened her eyes to glare at the ridiculous cherubs carved into the ceiling-high, brushed-gold posts of her bed. Every morning they had a stare-down, and she’d yet to beat the opulent little jerks.
    She danced on tiptoe over the ice-cold marble tile, smacking the alarm on her way to the bathroom. Keeping the thing on her nightstand would only ensure she’d never actually make it out of bed thanks to the double-edged sword of the snooze button. She shoved a mass of unruly curls out of her face, rubbed her eyes, and turned on the shower. Water jets from six angles lit up in different colors and shot like lasers. It looked like the Bellagio fountain show. While she waited for it to get warm, she stared at herself in the mirror and almost jumped at the dark, zombie circles under her eyes.
Holy cow.
    With a sigh, she shed her T-shirt and boxer shorts then stepped into the hot spray and waited for a minute until she felt human again. She washed her hair, having to turn in circles to get all the shampoo out, soaped up, and rinsed off before tying on a towel. She wiped a hand across the fogged mirror and brushed her teeth, squinting in the Broadway vanity lights.
Seriously, Dad? Seriously?
    She slipped into the next pre-selected outfit lined up in her closet, a plum skirt suit with a cream colored camisole, then hopped precariously into matching, sling-back pumps.
He likes me in heels.
The thought froze her — absolute suspended animation. Where did that come from? Since when did she start dressing according to Carter?
Not good. So not good.
    She dug around in her closet and traded the shoes for flats then finished getting ready. Some neutral lipstick, and Jacey jogged down the sweeping staircase, car keys in hand jangling to the beat of her step.
    Madden darted out of the kitchen, head down. “Gotta stop for gas. See you at the arena.” The closing bang of the big, double doors echoed in the cavernous foyer. Resisting the urge to scream and stomp her feet, she took a breath and locked up. If he thought she wouldn’t figure out whatever he was up to, he was so wrong.
    • • •
    When she walked into the boardroom twenty minutes later, most people had already arrived and were seated around a long, oval table. No Madden. She squeezed her eyes closed. No Carter either, but then, she had expected that. Some of the team had gone to cheer up kids at a local hospital. An empty chair beckoned next to Nealy, and she fell into it. The faces looking at her appeared mildly excited but also apprehensive.
    Jacey fought a sinking feeling and cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s get started. I know it’s been tough the past few weeks, and I appreciate your hard work and patience. I promise I’m actually a lot better at this.” The quiet laughter lifted a weight she hadn’t been aware of, and she smiled. “So what do you have for me?”
    Tiffany, a young, perky brunette, leaned forward with a grin. “Well, as you know, NHL game attendance has been at an all-time low in warmer climates. What we need is something that will draw a certain demographic — the biggest one for hockey games. Steve came up with it,” Perky paused mid breath to smile at Hammond down the table then met Jacey’s wary stare once more. “And I think it’d be perfect — a dance