Wheeler (Seattle Sharks 8)

“She’s there? Who is she? I need details, Lukas!” Her voice pitched higher in her excitement.

“I love you, Mormor.”

“Fine. Tomorrow it is. Love you, Lukas.”

We hung up, and I somehow kept my hand steady as I put the phone down.

“This is your next applicant,” Erin said, reading from her clipboard, oblivious to the fact that Faith and I hadn’t looked away from each other since she’d walked into my office. “Faith—”

“Gentry,” I finished for her.

“Yes!” Erin said with a smile. “You…” her gaze swung between us. “You know each other, I take it?”

“I’m his best friend’s little sister,” Faith answered, firmly putting me in my place.

“Oh! Good! I’ll just...leave you to it!” She threw a hopeful smile my way, no doubt ready to get back to Langley’s side, and left me with Faith.

“So what the gossip magazines say must be true,” Faith said, tucking a rebellious curl behind her ear.

“What’s that?” I asked, stunned that she was standing in front of me.

“That you’re in a secret relationship.” She swallowed and glanced away. “I’ve never heard you speak to a woman in that tone. She must be...special.”

“She is incredibly special to me.” My eyes narrowed as Faith took in the “art” that covered my walls. Was she...jealous?

“Mormor’s her name?” Faith asked, then forged ahead without waiting for the reply. “That’s what I heard Erin call her. And she speaks Swedish, of course. Probably five-ten? Blonde? Leggy?”

I would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so utterly absurd.

“Actually, she’s about five-foot-six, and her hair has mostly gone silver, though she’s been known to dye it bright pink on occasion.”

Faith’s gaze swung back to mine.

“She’s also seventy-six years old. Mormor is Swedish for grandmother.” I watched with rapt attention as the truth hit her.

She blinked rapidly, color rising in her cheeks at the same rate. “Omigod, I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t,” I replied softly. “Why don’t you have a seat, and let’s figure out what the hell you’re doing here.”

She arched an eyebrow but took the offered seat across from my desk. Instead of taking my usual one, I walked around the wide glass top and took the seat next to hers, turning it so I could face her.

She shook her head as she looked at my walls again...the walls covered in floor-to-ceiling murals of my modeling shots.

“I can definitely see why you have an issue committing. I mean, being in a relationship with yourself must demand all of your time.” She shot me a look that said she was less than impressed.

I laughed. Maybe I should have been insulted, but God, her face.

“It’s a bit much, even for someone with my ego,” I admitted. “It’s also what got my previous PA fired. That and her constant attempts to get her hands down my pants.”

She instantly found her little leather portfolio fascinating.

No doubt she remembered the moment she’d reached for my zipper months ago.

I shifted in my seat and told my cock to behave. It wasn’t getting out this time, either.

“Well, I can assure you that I have no desire to stare at giant murals of your face or get my hand down your pants,” she promised.

Now that’s a shame. Fuck, I hadn’t even fucked her, and I’d still messed everything up. Killed us before we’d had a shot to start.

“The contractors are coming tomorrow to take them down,” I said, blatantly ignoring her statement. “I can’t handle this much of...me.”

“I thought all models loved to see pictures of themselves.” Her lips lifted in a smile.

“I’m a hockey player who has a couple side gigs, not a model.”

“Uh-huh. As well as voted Sweden’s best-dressed athlete last year?”

“Don’t forget most eligible bachelor, too,” I reminded her.

She grinned. “And the most humble.”

“Always.”

We sat there, grinning at each other like idiots for a moment that lasted a few seconds too long. Finally, I reached for her portfolio, and she handed it over.

“So you’re really here to apply to be my assistant?” I asked, opening the leather to see her resume resting inside.

“I am,” she said, sitting up taller, all business. “I know it might seem odd, but I’d really like the job.”

“But, you don’t like me.” I read through the jobs she’d had in high school.

“I like you just fine, Lukas. What I don’t want is to land you like so many of the women in the waiting room. I’d think that would be to your advantage seeing as you’re tired of your PAs going for your pants.”

My eyes rose to meet hers and I shook my head. “You don’t want this job.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I do,” she argued. “I want to open a concierge public relations firm specializing in athletes after graduation. A job with you would pretty much launch me.”

“I need a full-time assistant, not someone who wants to use me as a springboard.” I crossed my ankle over my knee and leaned back in the chair.

“Your longest relationship has been what? A two-night stand? Me working for you full time for the summer would be long-term in your world.”

Now I was the one arching an eyebrow at her. “Lippy aren’t you?”

“Whoever works for you has to know how to dish your shit back at you, Lukas. You’ll trample anyone who doesn’t.” She stared at me straight on, no hint of guile or dishonesty in her eyes. “Besides, you’ll always know where you stand with me.”

This was the worst idea since that kiss we’d shared.

?

??You’re not qualified,” I told her honestly. “You’re distracted with school, and the launch of Adrenaline this summer is vital to my future.”

“I’m out for the summer. Distraction-free until September, and if I’ve read correctly, you’re launching in early July. I can handle it.” Her tone was straightforward. No pleas, just facts. “Go ahead, test me. Give me a scenario, and I’ll tell you how I’d handle it.”

Oh, this was going to be fun.

“My calendar is double booked.”

She tilted her head at me. “I evaluate which appointment is more vital to your launch and reschedule the other. You have daily workouts and ice time, of course—you don’t let yourself go during the offseason. I know that. But other than hockey, everything with the launch comes first.”

Damn.

“Someone calls speaking in rapid Swedish.”

She blanched but recovered quickly. “According to a study by the European Commission, eighty-six percent of Swedes speak conversational English. I’d ask them to switch to English, and I’ll learn Swedish in my off time.”

“You seriously just came at me with percentages?” A corner of my mouth lifted.

“I want this job.”

It didn’t matter if she wanted it, we’d be a disaster in the same office.

“You’re asked to deal with a one-night-stand who won’t get out of my bed.” I went for shock value.

“I tell them that your hotel doesn’t allow for late check-out, and call them an Uber while they get their clothes on. Two Ubers in case you went for the whole ménage thing.”

Holy shit, she really could dish my shit back at me.

“Hotel?” I asked.

“You don’t take women back to your penthouse. You keep a suite at the Four Seasons for that exact reason. Public, personal, and private don’t mix with you.”

My mouth dropped open a little.

“You forget, I’m Eric’s sister. I know you, Lukas. The good, the bad, the really bad, all of it. I want this job. I’m right for this job. I’m probably the only woman in Seattle who knows how to handle you. You don’t scare me, and I know there’s no getting in your pants. We’ve already established that.”