“I don’t know how or why,” Sam said, “but per Gage, you’ve got yourself an unlimited pass to the clubhouse, with instructions to be there exactly one hour before the start of every game.”

Jeremy raised a brow. “Impressive, as Gage’s usually so tight-assed with those things that he squeaks when he walks. I had to beg for mine, and my own sister runs the PR department.”

Knowing exactly why she’d gotten the pass, Holly took it and slipped it into her purse. “Thanks.”

“What makes it the most interesting,” Sam said slowly, watching her face, “is that we have obvious press problems. They’ve revoked the other press passes.”

“Maybe it’s my articles,” Holly murmured, trying to deflect.

“Or maybe it’s how the saying goes,” Jeremy said. “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer . . .”

When he moved on to talk to someone else, Sam arched a brow. “Ignore my ass of a brother, he’s pissed because I wouldn’t give him some Heat privileged information he asked for. So what’s going on, Holly?”

“I’m not your leak.”

“Good. Can you explain the pass?”

“Turns out you were right about that whole superstitious thing.”

“Okay. More.”

“Pace has to kiss me before each game.”

The usually unflappable Sam blinked.

“The guys didn’t tell you?”

“No, they didn’t.”

Interesting that that hadn’t leaked like everything else. “Yeah. We have to kiss in the shower room.” She paused. Blushed. “Up against the tile wall.”

Sam choked out a shocked laugh. “Wow. Such a horrible sacrifice, having to kiss Pace Martin.” She stared at Holly. “So that’s it. The reason you’ve let your hair down, why you’re smiling more. You’ve been ferreting out secrets, while holding one of your own.”

“Hey, I smile.”

“Yeah, but this is more of a goofy I’ve-kissed-a-hottie smile. It looks good on you. So . . . where’s Pace on the kissing scale?”

Holly’s eyes locked on Pace. He was still watching her. “Off the chart.”

Sam laughed. “I knew it. Did he ever give you your interview? He certainly owes you now, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” she murmured, still looking at him. “He most certainly does owe me.”

Sam pulled out her phone, punched in a number, and from across the room Holly watched Pace pull out his cell phone and answer it.

Sam turned away so Holly couldn’t hear how their conversation went, but when Sam closed her phone, she nodded. “He says—”

Holly’s cell rang. She pulled it out of her purse and answered. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

Her heart tripped. “Pace.”

“Sam says you need the interview now.”

“That would be great, if you have the”—she turned to once again locate him in the crowd and nearly plowed right into him—“time.”