She rearranged the papers in the folder she'd prepared for him. She had a job to do, and she was damn good at it. She'd treat Leo with professional courtesy and then send him on his way. No matter how attractive he was, no matter how impressed she was about his career, and no matter how much something about him called to her. The deep tug had been there ever since he'd first popped up on her radar several seasons ago. She couldn't explain it, but damn it, she'd do her best to ignore it.
Footsteps echoed from the hall. She rolled her shoulders, put her game face on, and turned to face the open door.
Leo stopped in the doorway and took up most of the space. He had to be at least six-foot-four, with wide shoulders and strong muscles showcased by a rumpled navy sweater and dark jeans.
Shadows darkened his gray eyes and his dark hair was mussed. His chiseled face creased in the semblance of a smile. "Kelsey?"
"That's me." Mouth dry, she licked her lips as the nerves in her stomach morphed from needles into butterflies. Leo, up close and in person, packed a powerful punch. Tall, dark, and sexy. Effortlessly sexy, even though he looked like he'd slept in his clothes.
Holding his gaze, she extended her hand. His enveloped hers, large, strong, and warm. The butterflies in her stomach melted into liquid heat. She cleared her throat and stepped back and gestured to the chair in front of her desk. "Please have a seat."
He set down a small travel bag and a plastic bag from a sporting goods store and cast a lingering glance at her one-cup coffee maker on the file cabinet by her window.
Good manners dictated the offer of the beverage. "Would you like some coffee?"
"I'd kill for some." He rubbed his hands over his face. "It's cool if I make a cup?"
"Help yourself. The pods, sugar, stirrers are right there and I have half-and-half in the mini-fridge." She crossed the room and snagged the small carton. "Let me guess, you're not a morning person."
He snorted and set one of the pods in the brewer. "I would be, if I'd gotten any sleep."
Frowning, she crossed her arms. No one had ever complained about the team's preferred hotel before. "Was there a problem with your hotel room?"
"I haven't been there yet." He rolled his shoulders. When he turned to face her, he mirrored her stance, his expression wary. "What time was my flight yesterday?"
"Seven o'clock." She frowned again. "Why?"
"Seven on the east coast is four o'clock on the west coast. I didn't think to reconfirm the flight information until I got to the airport." The gray in his gaze intensified as he studied her face. Under the fluorescent lights, the shadows and lines on his face deepened, highlighting his exhaustion.
"Oh, shit." The whispered word slipped out as guilt doused her like a bucket of cold water. An executive of a sports team that routinely travels to different time zones should find it second nature to think in terms of what time will it be on the West Coast when it's a certain time on the East Coast? She'd done enough travel to be well-aware that airline tickets are issued showing the departure time and the landing time in the appropriate time zones of the applicable airport. Berating herself for screwing up, blaming the stress of having the guy who injured her brother now joining the team for her brain freeze regarding the departure time, she moved closer and set the carton next to the coffee maker. "You missed your flight. I'm sorry."
He gave a single nod and then turned back to fixing his coffee. "I called the hotel to let them know and they said they'd hold the room. I'm hoping by the time I'm through here today, the rest of my luggage and my gear will have arrived there. It's currently in Detroit."
"You came here right from the airport?" She winced as another shard of guilt sliced deep. He had to be so tired.
"After I realized my luggage wasn't going to show up, I had the driver stop for me to pick up some clothes for practice." He jerked his head toward the plastic bag. "I'm going to have to borrow some gear."
"Our equipment staff will get you settled. They're always ready for anything. We'll finish up here so you can get down to Coach LeClair and then sort things out with the equipment staff and trainers." She rounded the desk and picked up the folder. "This is basically a welcome to Buffalo packet. It covers everything from emergency contacts and area hospitals to how to switch your driver's license should you decide to officially relocate here. Also, because you were traded at the deadline, you'll be reimbursed for single-room hotel accommodations for the remainder of your playing season. Just make sure I get a copy of the receipt."
"Will do."
"I know most players traded late in the season opt to spend the remainder living at a hotel, and not deal with the hassle of searching for an apartment or house until the off-season, but it also discusses how we handle moving companies and expenses."
"I'm not sure I'll be needing that. It doesn't make sense to move everything here only to have to send it someplace else in a few months."
Her fingers tightened on the folder. The thought of him leaving so soon bothered her more than she liked. "Not a problem. It's fine to wait until you see if the team offers you another contract. I'm sure they will. Our GM is very excited about you."
He shrugged. "At this point in my career, having only one guy happy that I'm here isn't really enough. But we'll see."
"I'm sure he's not the only one." At
