Ryker

“My money is on the Buckeyes,” I hear, and I glance up to see Gray Brannon looking down at me. Her green eyes flick to the magazine in my hand and then back to me with amusement. “Urban Meyer is one of the greatest coaches of all time. Everyone seems to underestimate his return.”

“Agreed,” I say as I toss the magazine down beside me and unfold my frame from the couch. I hold my hand out to her and she takes it in a firm handshake. “Congratulations are in order. Your dad made a gutsy move, but I’m sure it was the right one.”

Gray tilts her head and gives me a small smile of acceptance. I’m not sure, but I think I see a measure of gratitude as well. She squeezes my hand briefly before releasing it.

“You have faith in me.” She says it as an emphatic statement with just a tiny touch of wonder.

“As you had faith in me last year.”

“And still have faith in you,” she finishes with a smile, and then turns. I follow her down a short hall, right past her father’s office, which is empty and darkened, back to her office where she did all of her scouting work. I’m familiar with it because I stuck my head in to say hello to her when I came to discuss the terms of my contract with her father and my agent.

“Thought you’d upgrade to a bigger office,” I say as we walk in and I notice it’s just as overflowing with piles and piles of papers as it was the last time I was here.

“Nah,” she says dismissively as she sits down behind her desk. “I’m comfortable here.”

Stacks of documents and folders cover her entire desk. Binders line her shelves and books pepper the floor. It’s a complete and utter mess. Total chaos, and yet I get the feeling that this is the only way that Gray knows how to operate.

I pick up a pile of books from one of her chairs and set it on the floor. She gives me a sheepish grin as I sit down. “Sorry…just some reading for tonight.”

Leaning to the side of my chair, I glance down at the books again.

Statistical Models: Theory and Application

Strategic Management for Results: Practical Strategies for Sustainability

A Theory of Games and Economic Behavior

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” I tell her honestly, and as I raise my eyes back up to her, I’m actually thrown off-balance when she tosses her head back and laughs. I’m not jolted by her sense of humor or the easy banter that we have going back and forth. I’m actually struck a little stupid by the full lips bordering an absolutely perfect set of teeth and sparkling green eyes that come to rest on me.

It’s a moment for me…unconditionally defining.

It’s a moment I’ll look back upon and will say to myself one day, this…right here. This is the moment that it struck me that Gray Brannon is a fantastically beautiful and sexy woman, and that she’s actually…touchable?

I mean…yeah, I always knew she was attractive. How could she not be, with a smokin’ hot body and angelic face? It’s something that I always noticed, because hey, I’m a guy and we notice shit like that. But honestly, before this moment, I think I’ve always looked at Gray first as an immensely talented businesswoman and a brilliant as hell hockey savant. A woman that as I came to know more about her, I found a deep well of respect for her accomplishments and talent. While I’ve hardly seen her since she recruited me almost nine months ago, I’ve followed her accomplishments.

And I’m telling you that anyone—man or woman—who underestimates her is going to have their ass handed to them.

But now, as she laughs with candor at me—with me—who cares, she’s just fucking stunning.

“I think you should be impressed, Ryker,” she says with waning chuckles. “I think our opponents should be terrified.”

I shake my head slightly to clear it, because while as a man I will never apologize for checking out a gorgeous woman, this is business, not pleasure, and I need to quickly get past the fact that Gray Brannon is a woman who would interest me greatly on a personal level. The thought of what those lips—

No, not even heading in that direction.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here,” I drawl as I nod down toward the books, “and say that you plan on using that ginormous brain of yours to analyze our organization and our opponents, then translate it into some seriously witchy strategy.”

Gray leans forward, places her elbows on her desk, and steeples her hands. Her eyes are both serious and mischievous all at once. “I’m thinking your brain pan is pretty large itself, seeing as how you were able to understand my management philosophy in just under ten seconds and a glance at a few old textbooks, when it’s taken me the better part of an hour with each of your teammates to explain what I envision.”

“Maybe you should have used smaller words with them,” I quip as I prop an ankle over my knee.

“Maybe if they weren’t looking at my tits the entire time, they would have listened better.”

I actually can understand where my teammates are coming from. Gray Brannon has a fantastic-looking set from what I’ve been able to tell on past stolen looks, but to my credit, my eyes never drop there once today.

“So, you said the other day that these meetings were twofold. To give us a chance to voice our concerns to you, and for you to tell us what we need to do to keep our jobs on the team.”

Gray gives a mock wince. “That sounds really hard-ass when you say it like that.”