Holly had called earlier in the week asking for some play time with her favorite—and only—niece, so Tatum was spending the night with her, and I didn’t need to worry how late I stayed out.
I took a shower and spent way too long on my hair and makeup. Earlier in the week I’d purchased a new pair of jeans, shoes, and a sky-blue peplum blouse with a cute little soft, ruffled strip at the bottom. I topped it all off with a chunky, gold bling necklace to match the team colors. Spending so much time prepping reminded me of the fun times getting ready for high school proms.
I packed an overnight bag. One of the CBS 4 station’s perks available to employees was a condo in Denver. I had booked it for tonight so I wouldn’t have to make the hour drive after the game and late dinner.
I called Holly and asked to talk to Tatum.
“Hi, sweetie. School go okay today?”
“Yeah, Mommy. Me and Cassidy chased the boys up the big tree. They got in trouble.”
I stifled a laugh. “You mean ‘Cassidy and I’ chased the boys up the big tree.”
“Nooooo, Mommy. Me and Cassidy chased the boys, not you. You weren’t there.” She sounded perturbed.
“Okay. Silly me. We’ll have this grammar discussion another time. What are you and Aunt Holly doing tonight?”
“We’re going to eat pizza with pepper-no-knees.” Her voice rose with excitement.
I grinned. Tatum often said words phonetically, the way she heard them. “Yes, I’m sure you will. Now don’t stay up too late. I love you, Tatum.”
“I love you too, Mommy. Bye.”
I slipped my phone into my purse. The doorbell rang.
“Ms. Frost? Your carriage awaits.” A young man in what I took to be a Denver-Nugget-blue suit saluted me, then walked to the sleek, black stretch limo and opened the door. “There’s a fridge in the center with sodas, bottled water, and snacks. If you need anything, I’m the fourth button down.”
A glass wall rose directly behind his seat, and I was all alone in this new world. I giggled. I was Cinderella. Delighted, I rummaged around the mini-fridge and chose water and an apple, and then sat in the back row. One of the buttons built into the wall said “Roof.” I pushed it. Half of the ceiling opened up to the lovely, clear sky. A few early evening stars winked at me as the crisp, autumn air heightened my senses.
Another button said “Recline.” I pushed it and my chair did just that, with a footrest and all. I leaned back with a sigh of sheer pleasure.
I watched people drive by, rubbernecking to see who was inside the limo. This must be what animals in the zoo felt like, except the windows were tinted so they couldn’t see inside. What a first date. This was already too much fun. The anticipation of a wonderful evening continued to build.
The limo stopped near the elevator under the Pepsi Center. I thanked the chauffeur and was greeted by a young lady who handed me a lanyard with a VIP/Nuggets pass. What a thrill. No parking problems. No long walk to the stadium. No hassle. I could get used to this.
Then that little devil of doubt on my shoulder had to interject, “How many other women have received this kind of treatment by Zave?”
I shook my head to clear it. What he did before he met me was really none of my business. On the other hand, I might ask him anyway, so I could begin to build some trust. “Eyes wide open, Elle.” I spoke out loud. In the meantime, I chose to enjoy the pampering.
The elevator opened into a large hallway leading to the basketball court. The young lady showed me to my seat, announced that food and drink were on the house, and then left.
Front row, ground floor, near the center of the basketball court—it didn’t get any better than that.
People ambled around, finding their seats. A husband and wife sat next to me and introduced themselves. They were long-time fans and major financial contributors to the team. A little old lady with blue hair sat on my other side—not old-lady-blue hair, Denver-Nugget-blue. She was a riot. She told me she lived for the games. I believed her.
The lights dimmed and the noisy crowd hushed as the disco ball attached to the jumbotron spun, bouncing light everywhere. Music blared, and as it reached a crescendo, the Denver Nuggets, led by Triple X, jogged onto the floor. It was strange to see him out there with all those other big guys, and I mean big. Up close they looked like a forest of giants. They stood in a line, and as “The Star-Spangled Banner” played, I watched Zave, with his hand over his heart, search the crowd—until he saw me.
A huge smile split his face, and he did that head-nod thing that guys do. I grinned back. A tingle buzzed through my body.
Zave made eye contact and beamed at me after each basket he made, and oh, that smile. I cheered as loud as the blue-haired lady next to me, hoping to see that smile again.
During halftime, I stepped into the restroom and ran into Rhonda, the team owner’s daughter, dressed in painted-on white pants and Nugget-blue halter top. She did a double take, as if she recognized me, but didn’t say anything.
I thought, she certainly wasn’t afraid to show a little skin, and those stiletto heels—if I wore those, I’d break my ankles.
As she gobbed sticky lipstick on unnaturally puffy lips and admired herself in the mirror, she talked to her friend, who was dressed in similar attire.
I heard Zave’s name and scooted closer to listen.
“Triple X is looking hot tonight. Did you see him smiling at me every time he made a basket? The guy has it bad for me.” Rhonda fluffed her hair.
“You have it bad for Triple X, you mean.” The other girl leaned into the mirror and applied some mascara on her already heavily coated fake lashes.
I didn’t care to hear any more. I tossed my paper towel into the trash and left. The lady who helped me to my seat appeared by my side and asked if she could get me anything to eat or drink.
“A half blue-raspberry, half-cherry snow cone, please.”
She gave me an odd look.
“A little strange, I know—a favorite from my childhood, kind of comfort food.” And I needed some comfort food right now. Seeing and hearing Rhonda had upset me more than I thought. Zave may not be into her, but she had her hooks out for him.
“Calm down, Elle,” I muttered in an effort to reassure myself. “Remember, Zave invited you. He already told you he wants nothing to do with her. Focus on that. There will always be Rhondas out there. This is part of learning to trust again.” My mumbled self-talk worked as I made my way back to my seat.
I enjoyed watching several people attempt to make shots from the half-court line to win cars. No one did, but the crowd hooted and hollered anyway. Glancing around, I noticed Rhonda and her little friend a few rows behind me. No wonder she thought those smiles were for her.
My snow cone arrived as the teams jogged in to warm up. I leaned back in my chair and enjoyed my treat. I was a kid on a hot summer day nibbling on my favorite snack and watching my favorite show. I received more smiles from Zave, sending shivers to my toes.
The little old blue-haired lady tapped me on the shoulder. “I noticed that handsome Xavier smiling this way each time he makes a shot. Is he, by chance, smiling at you?”
“I sure hope so. He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?” I grinned.
“Oh yes, my dear, and if I were a few decades younger, I would make a play for him.” She gave me a cheeky grin. “I’m Verlayne, by the way, Verlayne Sample. Hey, I know you. You’re Noelle Frost, the TV reporter.”
“Guilty as charged.” I flashed my TV smile at her.
“You two will have some beautiful children.” She gave me a calculating look.
My face was as hot as a sunburn. “Uh, we’re just friends.”
“That’s good. Always be friends. That makes for a good marriage. He’s a nice boy, and I like you.” She reached up and gave me a big hug. Her blue hair smelled like peroxide and a good dose of what reminded me of a vintage perfume called Windsong.
The crowd roared, and we focused on the rest of the game. Another win for the
Nuggets. The team ambled down the tunnel to the locker room, but Zave and a few other players stuck around to do TV and radio interviews.
Then Zave, towel around his neck, walked over to where I sat and held out his hand. I placed my hand in his and couldn’t help noticing, again, how huge it was. I loved how safe it made me feel.
“Come with me, lovely lady.” He squeezed my hand. “So…did you enjoy the game?”
“Loved it.” I squeezed his hand back. “You were amazing!”
“It was amazing to have you here in the stands.” Another one of his lopsided grins appeared.
My heart pounded. “I loved the smiles per basket. You must have made a million tonight.” I looked up at him. He was flushed, sweat covered, and gorgeous.
“We’ll have to see if we can exchange baskets for kisses. What do you think?”
I tingled all over and laughed. “Umm, we’ll see,” and then thought, snappy answer, Elle. What I wanted to say was, “Not a bad idea. I’m looking forward to our first kiss, big guy.”
We walked through the tunnel, and near the end Zave opened a large glass door and said, “Please wait here for me while I get showered and changed, okay?”
“Sure.” I walked across the spacious room and plopped into a large, cushy chair near the wall. I had some time to think. I second-guessed developing a relationship with another athlete. So far, there was nothing in his character that gave me any doubts about him. I needed to get to the point where I trusted again. Not just normal trust, either. His life in the spotlight was not normal. I knew I was totally jumping the gun, but it was fun to be silly and dream of a possible future together.
Both of us would travel at times, me with stories, Zave with road trips. He was a superstar in the world of basketball and would always be treated differently. If I attached my star to his wagon, I would be judged by his world, too. That was okay. I didn’t have anything to hide. Sure, this may not work out, but if it did, I needed to decide if I could handle what it would take to be with a superstar.
I thought of Tatum. Zave was adorable with her, and she thought “Tree” was great, so no worries there. How would his fame affect her? Well, we would keep things as normal as possible for her…and any new little ones, that’s for sure. My musings stopped short when Rhonda and her friend entered, giggling.
“He got to me with all those smiles tonight. I’m sure he’ll take me out to dinner.” She plopped on a seat near the door. “Want to get one of the other players and go with us?
“Like who?” asked mini-Rhonda.
“I don’t know. Pick another player. They’re all hot.” Rhonda slouched in the chair and stretched her long legs out in front of her.
“The Streak—he makes my blood boil.” Mini-Rhonda shook her shoulders as if a shiver had run through her body.
“Okay. Here they come. Let’s go out there and do some serious flirting.” Rhonda and friend headed out the door toward a group of players coming from the locker room.
How ridiculous. I shook my head, glad the two of them hadn’t noticed me. I walked to the door to watch for Zave and saw him walking behind several guys.
Rhonda stepped around them and tucked her arm through Zave’s. He stopped and carefully removed it. She shoved it back. He peeled it away again and took a big step back, creating distance between them. He spoke to her for a moment and then continued walking.
She stood in place, shoulders drooping. A second or two later, she thrust her chin up and caught up to him once more. This time she stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Zave tilted his head back, away from her, then gently, but firmly pushed her off and pinned her arms down by her sides. He held her there as he spoke. When he let go, she stomped her foot—actually stomped it, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Zave kept walking.
Okay then, he was a man of his word. Rhonda was not in the picture. I felt a smile forming as I stepped out of the lounge and joined him. We walked hand in hand down the hall. I chanced a glance at Rhonda.
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes shot lasers at me.
Ignoring her, we caught the elevator to the team parking area. Zave held the door of his black Jeep Renegade open for me, then hopped in the driver’s side. I saw the elevator open again and Rhonda exited. She watched us as we drove out of the parking lot. Though she was spoiled and scheming, she seemed the epitome of the “poor little rich girl.”
Chapter Thirteen
Once we left the parking area, I relaxed. “Where’re we going?”
“Dinner.” Zave took my hand again. I liked the way our hands fit together. I felt the hard calluses. No pansy, soft mitts on this guy. A sense of security filled me. No one’s going to pick a fight with a six-foot ten inch giant.
“Zave, I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.” He grinned.
“Nice pun, basketball man. Why is your jersey number thirteen? Most people consider it unlucky.”
“I first set eyes on you on August thirteenth. That was one of my luckiest days, for sure.” He tightened his hold on my hand and butterflies did the cha-cha in my stomach.
“Hold it. You’ve been number thirteen for years. Seriously, why thirteen?”
“Since I was a little kid, good things happened to me on the thirteenth—especially on Fridays that are the thirteenths. It might be a known bad luck day for others, but for me, the thirteenth has always been lucky. Meeting you on the thirteenth really was lucky.” He glanced at me, then flashed that adorable lop-sided grin.
Oh, be still my heart. “You’re quite the sweet-talker, aren’t you?” I asked, and not wholly in jest. I mean, with all the women flaunting themselves at him, why was he still available?
“Nah, actually, I usually get kind of tongue-tied around the fairer sex in one-on-one situations.”
“No way.”
“Way. You ladies tie me up in knots. Give me a basketball and a bunch of tough guys to battle in a gym, no problem, but girls making plays? No, thank you.”
“Is that how it always was?” My eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Yeah, pretty much since high school. People see me as a commodity, an object. Most want something from me, and the ladies aren’t any different. I don’t want adoration. I definitely don’t want one-night stands. I don’t want to be wanted for my money or fame. I don’t want to date girls who chase me because I’m Triple X. I’m tired of calculating females.”
“What do you want?”
“I want someone who sees me for me, just Xavier Maximillian Trayce, or Zave, or Tree.” He gave me a sideways glance with the corners of his mouth raised, and then continued, “I’m a normal guy who happens to play basketball for a living. I want the chance to have a real life out of the spotlight.”
Zave paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts, or maybe his courage, and then he lowered his voice to an almost whisper. “I want to have a wife who knows the real me and loves me in spite of all my faults. I want a family, a big family. I want the whole thing—dirty diapers and all—you know, runny noses, kids waking me up by pouncing on me. I want to be happy, like my parents.”
Wow, he was so different from my ex-husband. All Blake wanted was the opposite of what Zave expressed.
“You ready to run now? That was a lot to dump on you, and I usually don’t talk about that stuff.” He seemed a little nervous and remained silent as I sat quietly thinking for a few minutes.
I liked what he said. He wasn’t anything like his public reputation. “You know, not many guys own up to what you said, and it’s refreshing. I don’t like games and hidden agendas. It seems like we are looking for a lot of the same things in life. I have a head start on my family with Tatum, and she means the world to me.”
I glanced over at him.
He glanced back and gave me a soft grin, then focused back on the road.
I continued, “I appreciate you sharing what you said with me because it helps me know you as Zave, not Triple X. I have a silly ques
tion for you, though. Do you want a little house with a white picket fence?” I stifled a little giggle.
He laughed, and then said, “I would settle for a roomy house with a number of acres for the family to run and play on.” Then he smirked as he said, “I’m not the glossy, socialite guy the press seems to like to flaunt. Do I have warts and character flaws? Yup, hundreds.”
We laughed together.
“You know, Noelle, you’re easy to talk to—guess that’s why you’re such a good TV reporter—that and you’re sure easy to look at.” A sexy dimple flashed on his cheek and then his face turned serious. “I feel like I’m just Zave, and you’re Noelle. No hype here. Thank you.” He gave my hand another squeeze.
His sincerity touched my heart. Before I had a chance to comment, he made a turn and parked the Jeep. He bounded out and opened my door for me.
“Brownie points for being a gentleman.”
“Did you say, ‘brownie points for being a gentleman’?” Zave asked with a chuckle.
“Uh…I guess I did. Sorry, my talking out loud gets me in trouble sometimes.” I squirmed.
He grinned and said, “But just the same, I’m glad I earned some brownie points. Do they add to the number of kisses exchanged for baskets?”
“Wait a minute. I didn’t agree to exchange kisses for baskets.” I noticed we were walking up some stairs and had come to a door with a dark window.
“Why? Don’t you want to kiss me?”
“You’re a little sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I elbowed him in the ribs.
He let out an “Oomph” and then said, “Foul.”
“No ref, no foul, big guy.”
He laughed again.
“What is this place?” We stood at the top of the stairs on a small landing with a sign that said “Deliveries between 6:00—8:00 AM only.”
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