On the Fly (Crimson Romance) by Katie Kenyhercz Page A

“Well, that wasn’t so bad.”
    “Not until that question about Carter.”
    Madden arched a brow.
    “
Phlynn. Phlynn
. Jeez. Why is it such a big deal?”
    “Do you call the rest of the guys by their first names?”
    Jacey opened her mouth and took a breath then thought about it. No. No, she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t really talk to the other guys at all. She closed her mouth.
    “That’s what I thought. Anything that suggests intimacy between you, those reporters will pick up in a heartbeat. A journalist is a trained observer with the moral code of a shark. They’re bloodthirsty, Jace. You gotta be careful.”
    “There really
isn’t
anything going on.”
    Madden nodded. She felt grateful for his support until he said, “Yet.” He took her hand and pulled. “Come on. One more interview.”
    He navigated through the sea of people, tugging her along at a break-neck pace toward the steps that led to the upper concourse. She tried to keep up in four-inch pumps, but it seemed that they’d chosen the wrong side of the railing. People still flowed down all around them, and they were the only ones going upstream. “Listen, don’t be nervous in this interview. Just be honest and be sure to say exactly what you mean. Don’t leave room for interpretation, and don’t say anything more than you have to.”
    Jacey’s stomach sank, and she paused on the top step. People still pushed past them, but she didn’t care. “This isn’t my first time at the rodeo, Mad. What’s different about this one? You make it sound like I’m going in front of a firing squad.”
    Madden’s face went stone serious for a moment and then he sighed and tugged her out of traffic. “It’s just been my experience that reporters are the scum of the earth. And … I heard about your little tumble with Phlynn after the ice rink meet and greet. And if I heard about it, maybe other people did too. Just … be careful, okay?”
    “How — ”
    “Gave the concessions girl my number before I left. I guess she’s tight with the Zamboni guy.”
    The world tilted, but Madden steadied her arm, opened the door to the press box, and ushered her inside. The noise from the concourse died away. A few men gathered around the snack table in the far corner, laughing and reviewing plays. A woman in a fitted blazer and black miniskirt zeroed in on her like a sighted laser. Jacey swallowed hard and battled with her fight or flight instinct. This reporter had a predatory smile as she strode over and offered her manicured hand. “Linden East of the
Las Vegas Sun.
You must be Jacquelyn Vaughn.”
    Jacey accepted the woman’s hand, trying not to show her instant dislike for the shark with long, platinum hair and bleached teeth. “Pleased to meet you.” Lie number one.
    “And you must be Madden.” The reporter turned a brighter smile on Jacey’s brother and held his hand a little longer. Madden flashed the
Let-Me-Make-You-Breakfast
grin she’d seen work on way more women than it should, and damn if Linden East didn’t sway just a little bit closer to him. But it was hard to tell who was gaming whom. Jacey cleared her throat.
    East turned back as if she’d never been pulled into Madden’s tractor beam. “First, I’d like to extend condolences for your father’s passing. He gave the Rockers and the Sinners a lot of good years.” She motioned over to a row of chairs facing the ice.
    Jacey hoped her going-to-the-gallows face didn’t show as she took a seat in the middle. The reporter angled a chair to face her, and Jacey made a conscious effort to look relaxed. Madden stood behind and to the side of the shark, arms folded in macho posturing, and she held in a sigh. Did he ever turn it off?
    “I hear you had some coaching problems when you started.”
    “Yes. Shortly after I took my father’s position as owner of the team, Coach Finley approached me with salary concerns. I couldn’t meet his demands, and he quit.”
    “That must have come as