It's Only Love

by Mel Curtis

  The Incredible Hulk followed her, carrying a bag with his gear. “Thanks.” It was the only word he’d said during this brief morning introductions.

  Cora led him out of the office, feeling his eyes upon her.

  “Are you Mrs. Gordon’s secretary?” His voice boomed like a drum-beat in the empty hallway. “Or the team shrink?”

  She had to crane her neck to look up at him. Unlike Trent, Hugh walked slowly, without urgency or purpose. His beard and mustache hid his lips, making it hard to read his expression. “I’m the one who helps you achieve maximum performance.”

  He chuckled. “I’m free tonight.”

  When he was in shape and clean-shaven, he’d been hot. Now, not so much. “With confidence like that, you won’t have a problem out on the court.” If anyone passes you the ball, dickhead.

  “I treat my women well.”

  “Save it for someone who’ll spread for you.” Viv’s face came to mind, desperate for someone to love her. “And make sure you wear a condom.” And be gentle, if it’s Viv.

  Please, don’t let it be Viv.

  “Aren’t you supposed to help fit me in?”

  Like Cal, Hugh made her feel dirty. And not sexy dirty. He was an adolescent in a man’s body. “A big man like you needs to be careful. You might force it in when finesse is called for.”

  He chuckled.

  At least he wasn’t a total dunderhead. Just a big dick.

  “It must be hard getting passed from team to team.” Cora fished. “Always having to prove something. You’re getting quite the reputation as a non-starter.”

  “Meet me later and we’ll see who can’t start.” There was a different rumble to his voice. The growl of a barely contained beast.

  “Other teams don’t respect the Flash, despite them qualifying for the playoffs two seasons in a row. If you can’t make it here, big man, you won’t make it anywhere.”

  The fitness center door opened. Trent stood in the doorway, looking sexy, despite his scowl and the way they’d parted.

  What the hell? his jealous look said.

  The world slowed. Jealousy didn’t fit into Cora’s relationship equation. It implied belonging to someone – a concept she didn’t believe in, having never seen her parents successfully make marriage work and having been hurt in the process. Over and over again.

  “I’ll be free for dinner.” Hugh was nothing if not determined, snapping her back into the present.

  “Actually, you won’t. But I’ll let Coach Parker clue you in.” Cora spun away. Not that she was running away from Hugh or Trent. She had a busy day ahead of her.

  A low wolf whistle had her looking back.

  Trent smiled. “Have a good day, sugar.”

  She couldn’t resist smiling at him and wishing him the same.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  ~*~

  “Welcome to the Flash, Irving.” Trent tucked away the smile Cora gave him, and turned to find the monster he’d been waiting for watching him. “Make a pass at her again and I’ll drop you quicker than a water moccasin strike.”

  He’d known by the slinky smile on his new player’s face that he’d been making a pass at Cora. He could also tell by the extra padding around every inch of Irving’s body that there was no way the big man was in shape to run the Chaos offense, much less run up and down the court at full speed for the Carolina Break.

  Poor bastard doesn’t know what he’s got himself into.

  The poor bastard was Trent, betting the farm on a bunch of has-beens and almost made-its, and on the power of positive thinking the Dooley Foundation brought to his team.

  “You’ve got a shot at this team, Irving, but if you slack off, if I so much as see you whining about the drills or the pace, we’ll cut you. I don’t care if Mrs. Gordon has to pay you to sit on your ass at home, because I won’t let you warm a bench unless you earn it.”

  “I’m here to play, Coach.” There was bravado behind the submissive words. A cocky attitude begging Trent to try and break him.

  “If you make it through the next hour, I’ll think about it.” Trent pointed to a treadmill. “Get your ass on there and do as you’re told.” And then Trent took the machine next to his.

  Evan led the team in warm-ups and sprints. Trent felt oddly energized.

  Despite wanting to kick Irving’s ass for making a pass at Cora, Trent wanted Irving to succeed. To his credit, Hugh didn’t stop once. Not that he went very fast during sprints. His footfalls were heavy. It was a wonder the treadmill didn’t break.

  Archie walked by with his clipboard, gave Irving a once-over and frowned. “Let yourself go, haven’t you, boy?”

  There were chuckles and quickly suppressed grins. Amusement dissipated when Evan shouted for an extra set of sprints.

  After Hugh managed not to vomit or collapse of a heart attack during interval training, Trent introduced him to the team. The reception was cool, as if everyone wanted to hate the man and yet he’d earned some grudging respect in the first hour.

  Irving sat on a weight bench while the team streamed out to the court. He wasn’t just drenched in sweat. He was drowning in it.

  Trent stood in front of his grand experiment. “What’re you doing?”

  “Catching my breath.”

  “Not today, you’re not. We break at lunch.”

  Irving looked at the clock on the wall and opened his mouth, probably to say something stupid, like, “But it’s only eight o’clock.”

  Cora and Vivian came into the fitness center, saving him the humiliation of Trent’s response.

  “He’s still alive.” Cora sounded surprised. Her gaze connected with Trent’s. Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

  “Go easy on him, Coach.” Vivian smiled at Irving as if she’d developed a fondness for big men.

  “So not happening,” Trent muttered. He turned to Irving. “You have thirty seconds to get in that gym and get in line.”

  “Don’t be so tough on him,” Vivian said. “It’s his first day.”

  “This is Hugh’s last chance, Viv.” Cora backed toward the door. “Babying him won’t help anyone.”

  “It’ll help me if Irving fails,” Vivian purred.

  Irving stared at the Flash co-owner as if she’d spoken with a forked tongue. Then he heaved himself to his feet and started walking.

  “Move your ass, Irving! Show me you want to be here!” Trent ran past the big man and the two women. He winked at Cora, meeting her gaze just long enough to elicit a tentative smile. He had to remember where she was concerned to go slow and not spook her. He crossed the lobby and entered the gym with one last shout over his shoulder. “Twenty seconds!”

  The big man lumbered through the eight different scoring approaches to the basket on the right side of the court. Randy, with his knee brace and taped Achilles, could have run the drills quicker than Irving. Randy and Berto took turns mopping up the court after Irving jogged by, raining sweat everywhere. When Evan led the team through the drills on the left, Irving shifted into a lower, slower gear, despite him being a lefty.

  Watching his new player upset Trent. He’d met with Irving last month. The big man had been quiet, but positive. Now he was just sullen. He’d ruin the team dynamic.

  Cora came to stand next to Trent. “Except for the new guy, I haven’t seen this much speed from the team since the regular season.”

  Vanilla and the memory of slow sex threatened to pull Trent’s focus from the court. “They’re testing him.”

  “He’s just a kid,” Cora said. “A spoiled, angry boy who needs someone to step in and say, ‘Cut that shit out, and act like a man.’ He’s probably been big all his life, and coaches have fallen all over themselves to keep him on the team.”

  “He’s a bully.”

  “Coach K at Duke doesn’t put up with bullies.”

  Trent refrained from sharing that he’d received a call from Coach K this morning congratulating him on signing Irving. They could talk about t
hat later, over dinner, when Trent didn’t feel like punching somebody. All his plans were falling apart on a day when they should have been solidifying. “Irving didn’t graduate from Duke.”

  “He wasn’t kicked off the team,” Cora pointed out. “He took the easy way out, following the money. I’m telling you, this guy won’t work hard unless you find a way to motivate him.”

  Trent glanced at Cora. “How do you know so much about Irving?” He hadn’t formulated his opinion yet.

  “Studying men is my hobby.” It was a flirty comment. And if made by another woman, he wouldn’t have paid it any mind.

  He turned back to the court, suddenly angry. “Don’t talk like that. You’ve been studying men for all the wrong reasons.”

  She fidgeted and made small noises as if she wanted to say something, but then decided against it. Several times. Until she said, “Irving’s sandbagging the drill.”

  “He’s tired.”

  “Bullshit, Trent. He’s testing you.” Her voice shook with annoyance, making him wonder if she was mad enough to kiss him. “The beard disguises his smile.”

  Trent looked. Irving’s lips should have been shaped like a gasping O. Instead, they curled in a sly smile. Cora was right.

  Trent swore. “Irving, drop and give us twenty pushups.”

  The big man stopped jogging to the back of the line.

  “You put in 100%, Irving. Or you can gather your gear and head home.” Trent was no slouch in the evil-death-ray glare department. “Your choice.”

  The big man did as Trent asked, while the rest of the team grabbed water.

  “You’re good,” Trent said to Cora.

  “I know.”

  “I’ll find an appropriate way to thank you later.” Trent hopped in line, hustling as hard as his players did, letting Irving know that no one shorted effort on practice.

  When they broke for three-point shots, Cora was gone.

  Unfortunately, Irving’s sullen attitude wasn’t. He loitered near the bleachers. “I’m an inside player. I don’t shoot threes.”

  “Everyone on this team shoots the long ball.” Trent gestured toward Ren. The South Korean sunk three in a row.

  Irving headed back out to the court and proceeded to clank the rim on all his shots.

  “Would management really let him sit at home and collect his salary if you didn’t want him to play?” Randy asked.

  “Let’s not find out.” Trent poker-faced him.

  Randy did a double-take. Then he grinned. “We have a new game plan?”

  Trent nodded. “We have a new game plan.” He had several new game plans – off and on the court. He hoped he wasn’t over-reaching and setting himself up to be screwed. He hated losing.

  ~*~

  “Oof.” Cora glared at Gemma, who’d just elbowed her in the ribs. Brutus growled in her arms.

  Cora and Gemma sat in chairs in the VIP dressing room of Xuri Fashions. They’d accompanied two clients on a much needed shopping trip.

  “Winnie asked you twice about what you think of that dress,” Gemma whispered, making urgent eyes in Winnie’s direction.

  “I like it.” Winnie Tiegler pivoted in front of the mirror in a clingy, blue jersey dress that showed way too much cleavage for a sixty-something, blond B-movie actress. “I didn’t gain a pound on that Alaskan cruise.”

  Cora sighed. She’d been school-girl dreaming about Trent’s promise to thank her later. Her mind never drifted when she planned to meet a man for sex. But it was drifting at the thought of Trent’s wink and wickedly-crooked smile. She been so preoccupied with thoughts of Trent, she hadn’t been tempted to buy anything at the stylish boutique.

  “Oof.” Gemma elbowed her again.

  The dress wasn’t appropriate for Winnie’s lunch with a movie producer later in the week, especially when the role was that of a hardworking Quaker wife from the 1920s.

  “Winnie.” Cora stood, handed Brutus to Gemma, and approached her client. “You have a great body.” A product of many plastic surgeons. “But when you show up for this meeting they need to see you as Winifred, a conservative, religious woman.”

  “Not Winnie the sex-pot.” Mary, Winnie’s mother, bobbed her gray-haired head.

  “Mama!” Winnie was good at the pivot-and-pose. “That’s why I brought Cora along today. I need positive reinforcement.” She swiveled to see herself in the mirror. “And this blue does wonders for my complexion.”

  Since Winnie had switched representation to Cy Maxwell and the Dooley Foundation did a lot of business with Cy’s other clients, Cora had been called in to suppress Winnie’s trashy side. Not to mention that Winnie totally ignored all the stylists Cy tried, including Xuri, herself.

  “Nobody’s arguing about you having beautiful…breasts.” Cora inwardly cringed. They were the breasts of a wannabe porn star, not a sixty-something woman who wanted to relaunch her career with potentially award-winning roles. “I haven’t seen any pictures of Quakers with double-Ds.”

  Winnie pouted. There was so much Botox in her face that only her lips moved.

  They might just as well cast Dolly Parton in the role. Was this Mimi’s future? Botox, suction, and silicon if she didn’t establish she had more talent than her appearance implied?

  “We could strap her girls down.” Mary tugged her purple polyester track jacket flat around her A-cup breasts.

  “Mama!”

  Cora immediately looked away. Unfortunately, her gaze landed on Gemma, who was trying not to laugh. It was time to cue the Rules of Attraction. “Winnie, what is it you want?”

  Winnie huffed like a junkie trying to get high on fumes. “I choose to be an award-winning actress. I feel strong and powerful and sexy, as if every man on the planet wants me.” She popped her hip out. “And I will welcome that feeling for years to come, every time I stare at the Oscar I’m going to win.”

  Good thing the Dooley Foundation didn’t guarantee results.

  “You’re in trouble.” Mary shook her head. “That’s not what she should be saying, is it?” She stared at Cora over the top of her circular sunglasses.

  Winnie stomped her foot. “Mama, I can choose any feeling I want, any dream I want.” She spun on Cora. “Can’t I?”

  Winnie and Mary launched into an argument where neither one listened to what the other had to say. Both were making their case to Cora.

  Gemma dipped her cheek down to rub against Brutus’ ears, most likely to hide her smile. As a life coach in training, Gemma was no help. And her boots were a blasphemous invasion of the exclusive boutique. Cora didn’t know what was more hellacious – not being able to try on any delectable clothes, or seeing Gemma turn up her nose at them.

  Cora wanted to take Winnie by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Forget that any shaking would send the items they’d been arguing over spilling out of that dress. Winnie was living in her own world.

  “Enough!” Cora could see why the stylists Cy had tried to bring in had failed. “The goal is to find a dress that will get you in the running for an Oscar. Go try on the beige one.” The black inserts down the sides would draw attention away from Winnie’s frontal-obsessions.

  When Winnie opened her mouth to argue, Cora pointed to the dressing room. “Go!”

  Winnie flung her dyed blond hair over her shoulder.

  “When my daughter gets to the retirement home for actors, the only thing not sagging on that body will be her bazongas.”

  “I heard that, Mama.”

  “Just sayin’ the truth,” Mary muttered. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  They sat in silence. Cora wished she knew how to help Winnie see herself the way others did.

  “Even Pamela Anderson got breast reduction surgery,” Gemma murmured.

  Cora should shush her, but she shared a secret smile with her instead.

  “It’s my fault.” Mary had tears in her eyes. “My second husband always made Winnie feel like she wasn’t good enough.”

  Cora understo
od about not feeling good enough. Her father had always seemed to love Amber more. And her mother was a beautiful supermodel who loved herself best. No matter which branch of the family she was with – standing in Dooley’s or Lucia’s shadow – Cora had felt invisible. For the most part, she was still invisible. No one looked at her and saw who she was inside.

  Except Trent.

  He looked at her. When he was in a room, she felt his full attention like a caress on her skin. It made her feel strong and powerful and sexy. And for a time…loved. That warm-in-the-chest, butterfly feeling, scared her. She wasn’t the kind of girl men fell in love with. She was a high maintenance bitch. And for her to have that feeling could only lead to heartache. Maybe it wasn’t Mimi that Winnie was like when she was younger. Maybe it was Cora. In which case, Winnie needed some good loving.

  “If my second husband was still alive,” Mary was saying. “I’d give him a cheap shot in the nuts.”

  Winnie appeared in the beige dress, looking classically age appropriate.

  “You look lovely,” Gemma said in her be-kind-to-others voice.

  “I look forgettable.” Winnie slouched.

  “You look Oscar-worthy.” It was true. If Cora was more than the rare-hugging type, she might have hugged Winnie. She was on a roll. She’d pegged Hugh Irving. Trent had complimented her. Why stop now? “Winnie, can I ask you a personal question?”

  The aging actress shrugged. “You’re my life coach.”

  “When was the last time you went out on a date with your husband?”

  From the ensuing silence, Cora bet it had been far too long.

  Chapter 26

  “Coach, I scheduled an interview for you.” In a red skirt so tight it was amazing she could breathe, Vivian stopped a few feet away from Trent. “Can you come to my office? The reporter is here.” Vivian looked about as sincere as a vulture circling a carcass.

  Trent tried to blow her off. “Media day is Saturday.”

  “This is pre-media.”

  The brute-force squad was finally clicking, pounding on defense, if not still struggling on offense. Trent wanted to watch them run the modified Carolina Break one more time.