Her Man Advantage Read Online Free

“Show me everything.”
    Axel had been ducking opportunities left and right, determined to keep this conversation focused on the job she was here to do. But honestly, how could he walk away from that one?
    “Tempting as that might be, I think we’d better start with something more manageable.” Stalking away from the seats, he gestured for her to follow. “The rink’s chiller system, maybe. I’m going to need some cooling down.”

3
    A S THEY PASSED a wall of life-size photos of current Phantoms’ players, Jennifer hurried to keep up with her reluctant tour guide. He seemed determined to complete the excursion around the training facility in record time. He’d shown her the state-of-the-art exercise and weight rooms with little commentary, occasionally flipping light switches and nodding to the last few personnel in the building as they went home for the day. Could he make it any clearer that he didn’t want to be around her?
    His behavior was a puzzle since she knew damn well he was attracted. The heat between them when he’d plucked her from the steel girders had sent her into a full-on meltdown, and she wasn’t a woman whose head turned easily. He’d even said he needed a chance to cool down when he finally released her. So he must have been overheated, too.
    And resenting it, apparently.
    Frustrated with him, with herself and with the way the day was going, she stopped in front of a poster of the team’s playmaker, Kyle Murphy. She needed to get to the bottom of this before she moved on. She couldn’t scout filming locations for the documentary series until she resolved the Axel dilemma.
    “Axel?”
    He’d outpaced her by about four miles down the long corridor. Well, at least twenty feet. He turned now, and peered back at her in the semidark vacated part of the building.
    “Did I miss something?” His voice echoed a bit in the wide hall with decorative concrete floors polished to a high shine.
    “Yes.”
    She stared him down, willing him to come closer and not be so difficult. For some reason, she felt that if she could win him over to her cause, she could make this film project a success.
    “Care to clue me in?” he said finally, not budging.
    “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”
    Even from twenty feet away, she could see the moment of guilt in his expression. And, while it wasn’t necessarily pleasant to have her suspicion confirmed, she appreciated that he had the grace to appear abashed over the fact.
    “Am I going too fast?”
    “Yes, but that doesn’t answer the question. Why are you trying to set a new land speed record?” She wished she had her Nikon in hand now, partially because it felt awkward to ask tough questions with no barrier between her and her subject.
    Also because the camera would love this man.
    She wanted to linger over the harsh angles of his face with her naked eye. Zoom in on the unusual scar that had to be the outline of a hockey puck under one cheek. Pan out for a long shot of his body to appreciate the way he dwarfed everything around him.
    He really did clean up well. His brown hair was shorter than his Viking ancestors’, but he had the strong bone structure, which highlighted his magnetic blue eyes. Even without the hockey pads, his physique was extraordinary, a testament to the hours of work in the gym and on the ice. Constant skating, apparently, yielded a truly spectacular butt. She’d been following him around long enough to become familiar with the way the man filled out a pair of jeans.
    Now he came toward her slowly, his feet erasing the space between them.
    “Maybe I don’t like your idea for this movie.”
    “TV documentary series,” she corrected automatically. “I gathered as much when you said that private lives don’t belong in a film about a sport.”
    He paused a foot away from her. Looming.
    “So focus on the training. The year-round preparation that goes into playing at this level. Why do you need to manufacture personal lives for