When Aria Monroe lands her dream job as the new photographer for Los Angeles's professional hockey team, the last thing she expects is to work with the cocky, arrogant center Connor Holden who rocked her world five years ago during a one-night stand...
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After drinking my body weight in wine, I ended up spending most of my night researching the members of the team, trying to put a name to the various handsome faces. I refuse to let Connor Holden put a damper on this incredible opportunity I've received, and for the most part, today has run smoothly.
I shot Levi first, working out any lighting kinks because I knew he'd be patient enough. He stood there in his uniform like a statue, doing whatever was asked of him like the sweetheart he was.
Next up was Matti, the guy who asked how I got my scar without thinking before he spoke. I also remember Connor accusing him of not having manners, and the little flutter in my chest makes me grit my teeth. He wasn't saying that to stand up for me. He couldn't have. Not with the attitude he sports.
"Can you tilt your head to the side?" I ask. Some hockey players need help with posing, Matti, a defenseman, being one of them. He's got a very similar build to Levi, but rather than deep tan skin and chestnut hair, he's pale with freckles splattered across his cheeks. Matti seems younger than the others, with a boyish grin to match. "Yeah. Just like that. Keep still for me." My camera shutters as it captures the images, and with a quick glance at the screen, I know I've got my shot. "Perfect! Thanks, Matti. You're all set."
"Anytime, darlin'." His southern charm threatens to make me blush, but before it happens, a sudden awareness prickles the back of my neck. All the hairs seem to rise, and I don't need to hear the sultry, low voice to know whose mouth it comes out of.
"Did you save the best for last?"
I roll my eyes as Connor steps in front of the green screen, directly in my line of shot. "Hardly. I've got about six others before I make it to you. Wait your turn."
"Actually, it needs to be now." A woman with a slim waist hangs up her phone, stuffing it into her designer back. Her heels click against the tiled flooring, stopping beside me. "Connor has an interview at three."
I squint at the blonde-haired female, eyeing her lips plumped with filler. The only boss I have is Brian, not whoever the hell this chick is. "As I said a few seconds ago, he can wait his turn."
She arches a perfectly penciled brow before she sticks her hand out to me. "I'm Lacey, the social media manager, and I'm not trying to be a bitch, but if you want his picture, and trust me, you want his picture, it must be taken now unless you want to explain to Brian why the league doesn't have a headshot to plaster on the news of the most sought-after player."
My molars are clamped down so tightly that I fear I'll break one. The last thing Connor needs is to get his way, but judging from the lazy smile on his face, he knew it would go this way the second he stepped foot in front of the green screen.
"Fine." Pointing to the screen, I get him centered, not allowing myself to stare at him in his uniform. I can't. Otherwise, I'll get distracted, and that's the last thing I need. "Now just look at the camera, and—" Fucking hell. The man knows how to work a lens. I don't even have to instruct him.
