If it’d been filled with women, Holly doubted the atmosphere would be the same. These guys spent more time in close, confined quarters with each other than they spent in their own homes. In fact, she knew that more teams had been brought down by in-team fighting than poor play, but that didn’t seem to be an issue with the Heat.

She found Pace alone in the shower room, staring off into space. She’d caught him rubbing his shoulder several times in the locker room, and she wondered if he was in pain. The urge to reach for her camera was strong. He could have walked off a glossy magazine ad. His jersey open over a clean, softly worn white T-shirt, both clinging to broad-as-a-mountain shoulders; tight compression shorts that hit mid-thigh and looked like something a cyclist would wear, revealing legs longer than a country mile. His feet were bare, and she had no idea why, but that was sexy as hell. Yeah, he could have been a model, but she’d never seen one with that hard of a gaze and that much going on behind it.

He was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear her enter, giving her an extra moment to stare at him, which frankly, was enough to make her start to perspire.

The man was beautiful, though she could admit to wondering just how deep that beauty went. She could try to find out, but that hadn’t worked out for her so well in the past, and in spite of being willing, even hopeful, she was feeling a little gun-shy. “Hey.”

He didn’t move, just let out a breath, making her realize he’d been aware of her all along. She cocked her head. “You okay?”

“Off the record?”

“Of course.”

He didn’t move an inch, but she sensed him relax. “I’d be better if I had a Dr Pepper,” he admitted.

“I thought you gave them up to watch your girlish figure.” She smiled when he slanted her a look. “I could get you one, if you’d like.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

Though he was being friendly enough, he was still speaking in the polite tone he reserved for the press and pushy fans, which she knew all too well because it’d been the very first tone he’d used with her. “I’m not looking for a canned response, Pace. You don’t have to be fine with me.”

The look in his eyes sent a little lust-ridden thrill racing along her spine. He was tall, dark, and full of attitude, with tension coming off him in waves. She wondered if it was the upcoming game or something else. She tossed over his pants, which he caught in midair but didn’t move to put them on.

“You’re not what I expected,” he finally said.

“Ditto. But curiously speaking, what did you expect?”