Data. Numbers. Facts.

That's what I know.

I'm not great with relationships or men. I don't even date. My entire sexual experience can be reduced to three nights of trauma.

Imagine my surprise when one of hockey's best players with the worst reputation takes interest in geeky old me.

Tyson Murphy isn't what I need in my life. He's hung up on his ex-girlfriend and runs through women like he runs down opponents on the ice. The last thing he needs is a woman who is terrified of intimacy.

The last thing I want is to be is just another puck in his net.

We're oil and water. Order and chaos. Logic and emotion. We shouldn't mix.

So why won't he stop pursuing me?

And why do I suddenly crave the one thing I've avoided my whole adult life?

Love.