When she’d been invited by Sam on this trip, she’d had no idea what to expect, maybe a luxurious trip from start to finish, with maids and butlers to serve the players every whim. Instead they flew on a relatively no-frills chartered jet with a single steward onboard. The Heat players wore suits and looked good while they were at it. They also smelled good. The support staff was there as were coaches, management. Sam’s brother, Jeremy, was aboard, too. He was Sam’s equivalent at the Charleston Bucks, and the two of them often co-chaired publicity events for both teams together.

Holly looked at the testosterone filled cabin. All around her was the scent of big, built men—deodorant, soap, af tershave. She’d never seen such concentrated . . . maleness in one place before, and it was distracting to say the least.

But she was here for a job, and she would use her time wisely. Forcing herself to get to work, she pulled out her computer, booted it up, and opened Word. Then stared at it for a while. Yeah, look at her, hard at work.

Two rows ahead of her, Ty and Henry were playing cards, Henry’s head bopping to some beat from his iPod. Just to her left, Wade and Pace were talking and laughing, amusing each other with the ease of old, tight friends.

Then Pace turned his head toward her. Wade was saying something to him, but Pace didn’t take his eyes off her as he slowly nodded a greeting, his gaze dark and assessing and . . .

Warm enough that she needed to adjust the overhead fan right onto her face. Whew. The guy was edible. No other word need apply. She looked at her blank screen and tried to concentrate, which turned out to be impossible, so she clicked open her Sudoku program.

Five minutes later she had a good portion of the puzzle done when a deep male voice in her ear said, “Four.” This was accompanied by a long, tanned finger pointing to one of the squares. “Four goes there.”

She tipped up her head and found Pace. Her mouth went dry. He wore a dark charcoal suit cut just for him, a French blue shirt with a sexy as hell tie and an easy smile.

“Working hard?” he asked.

“Very.” As she answered, she shut the Sudoku program, inadvertently revealing the Word program behind it.

And her blank screen.

“Ah,” he said. “Invisible font.”

With a sigh she gave up and sat back. “I don’t do idle very well. I like to be on the move, and I’m usually in a hurry as well. Sitting sucks.”

He surprised her by folding his long, leanly muscled body into the empty seat next to her. “It’s called relaxing.”

“Yeah, I don’t do that so well either.”

“It’s hard for me, too, since I gave up soda.”