And yet hearing her say his name, even when laced with barely constrained hostility, tumbled every carefully constructed boulder that made his public persona and left him there as nothing more than a man with a crush on a really smart woman he wasn’t sure how to relate to. She had an exterior made of Kevlar and his charms never managed a penetrating hit. And his charms were all he had.

It didn’t help that he’d completely blown the first impression he’d made on her. Blown it like he’d metaphorically handed her a live grenade after lighting fire to everything she held dear.

“Don’t take us seriously. We’re just a bunch of useless jocks,” he said.

Her lips pursed and her spine straightened.

This was the first time he’d seen that the guys flaunting her rules might actually get under her skin. Tonight there was no good-natured eye-rolling or shaking of her head. She was mad. Actually mad.

Mullens glanced back at his teammates, unable to explain why tonight felt so different. There was something fragile about the players’ spirits. They’d lost so badly and so repeatedly over the past two months. That did things to a man, especially when they were on the league’s last-chance team and more losses might threaten their careers.

“We’ve barely won a game all season,” he said quietly. “There’s a lot of steam to be blown off.”

“Maybe if you tried following the diet plan—no sugar, no alcohol—you might have better results.” She raised an eyebrow at the line of men hunched over their drinks, sipping furtively. Her large, dark eyes lifted to Mullens’ own and he felt caught out. Busted as the worst offender. The ringleader. The one whose attitude gave everyone implicit consent to blow her off.

It was all he could do not to look away in shame.

“We need someone busting our chops,” he muttered.

“Then call your moms.”

Unable to help it, he flinched. “Imagine how bad it would be if we didn’t have you.”

“Well, let’s see. I’d be happier. Stress-free.” She lifted her arms, her face softening into a smile as though she was imagining herself on a beach somewhere. “Sounds like a win to me.”

He’d never get back on a real team if she gave up on them. He’d be stuck here until there was nothing left to salvage. Gone and forgotten.

She was the only thing between him and being a failure.

In the split second Mullens had spent mulling over his potential personal losses, Athena had escaped. He put down his empty glass and hustled after the flash of plum-and-black fabric. Past the full dance floor and out the tall ballroom door that was just swinging shut again.

She was moving fast, her sexy gown swishing around her calves.

“Tina!”

She strode faster.

He snagged her elbow before she hit the ladies’ room across from the ballroom, but she did some sort of grip-breaking move that freed her. She vanished through the doorway and he followed.

“Tina.”

She whirled, her mouth dropping open, her voice shaking. “Get out!”

He stepped toward her and she stumbled backward in surprise, hitting the sink counter with her hip before backing against the room’s far wall.

“The team needs you,” he insisted, planting himself in front of her.

“I know.” Her cheeks were pink and her chest heaved as though she’d just finished a sprint.

“So you can’t quit because of me.” He placed one palm on the patterned tile beside her, needing to steady himself against the subtle scent of her cocoa butter lotion, not to mention their intoxicating closeness.

She crossed her arms, ensuring there was space between them. She glared up at him with lips that looked way too kissable. “Give me one good reason not to.”

“We need you to get us back on real teams,” he said without thinking. “Or at least help us turn this one into a winner so we don’t lose everything we’ve spent our lives working toward.”

She scoffed. “Maybe if you followed the diet plan, you’d be a winning team.” She gave him a shove, then darted around him as he regained his equilibrium.

“I wasn’t traded because of my food choices, Tina.”