Page 48 of Slap Shot Scandal
By him?
I have my doubts after this morning. He’s probably worrying about me spilling another beverage all over him, maybe groping his ass the next time.
Dammit.
Anyway, I promised myself I’d stop thinking like this. Nothing good is going to come from lusting after Weston Steele. Right now, I need to focus on this press conference and nailing every last detail.
Not the captain.
Argh.I have a freaking one-track mind right now and it’s not on PR strategy.
Dad’s voice echoes in my head:The moment personal feelings interfere with execution, you’ve lost the game.
Here I am, sitting at my desk and fantasizing about the team captain instead of focusing on tomorrow’s press conference.
Way to prove his point, Harbor.
Smoothing my hair over my shoulder, I toss my celldown and click into email. I still have so much to do and tons of unfinished tasks on my list.
Yet all I can think about is Weston’s sudden retreat this morning. I dried him off instinctively, not thinking about the logistics of my hand placement. Hopefully he won’t read anything into that.
Shit, this is awkward.
And I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him. That I’m letting him get to me like this.
With a heavy sigh, I refocus on my inbox.
Crap.ESPN wants an exclusive interview—with Weston.
Of course they fucking do.
I pick up my cell and text him again.
Harbor: ESPN wants an exclusive with you tomorrow after the press conference
Weston: Me or the team? And do you know the specifics?
Harbor: You. And I’m assuming it’s about the move and the new coach. But I’ll get more details for you. You in?
Subtext ‘pretty please.’ Because I called in about ten favors to get this press conference together on such short notice and the last thing I want to do is piss off a major network.
Weston: I guess
Harbor: Thank you! I’ll get the specifics for you ASAP
He hits a thumbs up on the message and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I didn’t have to beg.
Not that you wouldn’t.
An image of me on my knees in front of a naked and gorgeous Weston pops into my mind.
For fuck’s sake, Harbor. Get your mind out of the gutter.
I banish the vision and type out a response to the email requesting a time and detailed questions so I can brief Weston.
Hitting ‘send’ on my reply, I check my to-do list.
Find locations for official player photos
