by Regina Hart
She’d been prepared for Constance’s reservations about raising her daughter in an apartment with two single women. She’d also anticipated her fear that her abusive ex-husband would find her. But she’d never considered Constance would think Andrea wanted to room with her to get insider information on the Monarchs.
Troy would believe that also. Would he try to prevent Constance from moving in with her? Would the other woman let him? Perhaps she could win Troy’s trust if he got to know her. But a closer relationship with Troy was too great a risk.
6
Gerald’s administrative assistant had told Troy he’d find her boss having brunch in this trendy Brooklyn café.
Troy took the empty seat at the table for two. “Mind if I join you?” His calm tone surprised even him, considering the turmoil building inside him.
Gerald lowered his copy of the Wall Street Journal. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
The other man looked surprised to see him. Had Gerald really thought Troy would sit back and allow him to attack the team? It didn’t matter that Gerald was the Monarchs’ co-owner and, therefore, his boss. He wouldn’t allow anyone to jeopardize the Monarchs’ reputation.
Troy folded his hands on the table. “Then let’s make this quick. Call off your dog, Gerry.”
“What dog would that be?”
A slender young woman dressed in the café’s red and white uniform paused beside Troy. “Sir, can I get you something to drink?”
He’d ask for a beer if he weren’t returning to the office. “Ice water, please.” He waited for the young woman to leave before continuing. “I saw the Insider blog on the Horn’s website, Gerry. Tell the paper to take it down.”
Gerald picked up his own glass of ice water. Idle curiosity marked his manner. “Are you ordering me?”
It was hard to remember Gerald was the boss when Troy had more loyalty to the company. “I’m asking you.”
“Maybe Jackie lets you get away with that tone, but I don’t take orders from staff.”
Troy narrowed his gaze. “Why are you doing this? The only ones who benefit from your attacks against your own team are your competitors.”
The server returned with Troy’s water. “Are you gentlemen ready to order?”
Troy declined food but waited while Gerald placed his brunch request. He gave Troy a sly look when the young woman left. “What exactly do you think I’m doing?”
The throbbing started in Troy’s temples. He took a sip of water. “You’re paying the Insider to harass the team. Jamal didn’t give the guy an interview. The blogger made it up, probably with your help.”
“What makes you think I have anything to do with this blog?”
Troy almost choked on another sip of water. “It’s your M.O., Gerry. You did the same thing with Marc.”
Gerald shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t.”
“You’re right. Andy Benson exposed you first.”
Gerald gave him a smug smile. “So you say.”
Troy drained his glass of water. “Stop trashing the team, Gerry. With all due respect, you should have let go of whatever grudge you held against Jackie’s grandfather when he died. These players shouldn’t have to suffer for it.”
Gerald spread his hands above the table. “I don’t have any knowledge of the blogger or the blog you’re talking about.”
Troy stood and parroted Gerald’s earlier response. “So you say.”
He strode from the restaurant, disappointed but not surprised. It was Gerald, after all. His whole reason for being was to bedevil the Jones family, and his weapon of choice was the Monarchs.
Reasoning with Gerald hadn’t worked. He’d move on to Plan B. Whatever that was.
“You convinced the Horn to take down the Monarchs Insider post about Jamal.” Jaclyn’s terse words were more warning than praise.
Troy stood as his boss strode into his office Friday afternoon. He’d told Jaclyn about the blog yesterday. She hadn’t seemed worried at the time. But today, her features were tight with anger.
His gaze fell to the printout in her right hand. He had a premonition of disaster. “They took it down yesterday.”
“And replaced it with this.” Jaclyn thrust a computer printout at him.
The new blog entry was a popular topic. There were almost three hundred comments posted to it. The title was “Mrs. and Mr. Jones.” Troy gripped the sheet. He hadn’t received this latest Google Alert, nor had he checked the online column. He should have.
Troy skimmed the brief blog. The Insider called Jaclyn a fool for believing DeMarcus Guinn was in love with her when he could have any woman he wanted. It offered a David Letterman–style list of the top ten reasons DeMarcus would fake a relationship with the Monarchs’ co-owner. Each reason was more insulting than the last.
He looked into his boss’s flashing brown eyes. Even her long, black curls quivered with fury. “This is trash.” What else could he say?
“If this blogger wanted to distract the team, he’s succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. I’m furious. Marc will be livid.” Jaclyn’s normally smooth voice was rough as sandpaper.
Troy dropped the printout to his desk. “Don’t let them get to you.”
“Too. Late.” She clenched and unclenched her fists.
“It’s a gossip blog. Don’t waste your time worrying about it.” Troy knew he’d said the wrong thing when Jaclyn’s posture stiffened.
“That’s easy for you to say. Your personal life isn’t being derided and dissected on the World Wide Web.”
“Everyone who knows you and Marc knows this stuff isn’t true. It’s obvious you love each other.” Troy stopped talking. Jaclyn wasn’t listening anyway.
She stabbed a finger toward the printout. “Who is the Monarchs Insider?”
Troy massaged the back of his neck. “I spent more than an hour on the phone with the newspaper yesterday asking that question. They bounced me around, refusing to reveal their sources. The best I could get was their taking down the post about Jamal.”
“But they just replaced yesterday’s trash with today’s garbage.” Jaclyn slammed her hands onto her hips. She stood frozen for several silent moments. “Do you think the Insider is an employee?”
Troy felt the pain he heard in Jaclyn’s voice. “Gerry denied having anything to do with it.”
Jaclyn’s eyes widened. “You spoke to him?”
“Earlier today.”
Jaclyn closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “I told you that I’d handle Gerry. You have to be careful in your dealings with him. He’s your boss, too.”
“I’m not worried about Gerry.”
“You should be. But besides Gerry, is there anyone else who might be involved with this blog?”
Troy shook his head, as he considered all of his coworkers. “With the exception of Gerry, everyone’s loyal to the franchise.”
Jaclyn paced his office, which was almost as spacious as her own. Her anger spread across the room. “I want the entire blog taken down.”
Troy tracked her movements. He wanted to take down the blog, too. But it wasn’t that simple. “If we keep complaining about their posts, we’ll only draw more attention—and traffic—to their website.”
“They took down the post about Rick and Jamal.”
“Because the blogger lied about interviewing Jamal.” Troy sighed. “Jackie, we don’t want them to know they can rattle us.”
Jaclyn glared at Troy over her shoulder as she strode to the opposite side of the room. “I’m not rattled. I’m angry.”
No kidding. But as long as she focused her anger on the blogger and not him, Troy felt relatively job secure. “I’m sure Gerry’s behind the blog.”
“Do you think he’s the actual Insider?”
“I doubt he’s writing the posts, but I’m sure he’s feeding the blogger information.”
Jaclyn expelled a breath. “But we don’t have proof.”
Troy shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “The blog app
eared the same day Gerry asked Andy to write negative stories about the team. That can’t be a coincidence.”
Jaclyn paused before the window. She appeared deep in thought. “I wish I could figure out how to force him out of the franchise.”
“So do I.” Troy freed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms. “I’ll keep trying to find out who Gerry’s working with on the blog.”
Jaclyn looked over her shoulder. “How long will that take?”
“I don’t know.” He wished he did.
She turned to face him. “This is serious, Troy. Whoever this blogger is, he’s picking the team apart. He’s lied about Jamal, shredded Rick’s reputation, and attacked Marc and me. Who’s his next target? The play-offs start tomorrow. We need to stop this sooner rather than later.”
Troy held her gaze. “I won’t give up until I find the coward behind these attacks.”
“Work fast.” Jaclyn strode from his office.
She was counting on him. The whole team was counting on him. Troy returned to his seat. He’d do whatever it took to protect the franchise.
Andrea grabbed her office phone to make the ringing stop. But she continued reading the Cleveland Cavaliers stats in preparation for Saturday’s game. “New York Sports. Andrea Benson.”
“Hi, Andy.” At the sound of Troy’s sexy baritone, Andrea’s vision blurred.
“Hello, Slick. Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane to Cleveland for tomorrow’s game?” Game one of the Monarchs versus Cavaliers series was scheduled for Saturday in Quicken Loans Arena.
“I have a couple of hours. How’s my favorite sports reporter today?”
Andrea’s suspicion stirred. Why was he being nice to her? “I’d be a lot better if you hadn’t blocked my access to your players. Have you come to your senses?”
His low chuckle strummed the muscles in her abdomen. “I came to my senses the day I blocked access. But it looks like you’ve found a way around that.”
Andrea was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Connie told me you invited her to move in with you. You’re not looking for a back door to the team, are you?” His accusation stung.
“This has nothing to do with the Monarchs. Connie and her daughter need a place to live, and my friend and I need another roommate.”
“Then put an ad in the paper.”
Andrea gripped the receiver. “Why?”
Troy’s tone sobered. “It’s not a good idea for you and Connie to room together.”
“Why not?” She would make him say it. Troy would have to state the reason for his objection to Constance living with her. She wouldn’t let him dance around his apparent discomfort when he was the one who’d made the call.
The line went silent. Could he have realized the idiocy of his position? No such luck.
“If you live with a Monarchs employee, you’re going to have access to sensitive information.”
He’d already blocked her access to Barron, making it difficult for her to help the shooting guard. She wouldn’t let him stand in the way of helping Constance get herself and her daughter back on their feet. This was as much for the mother and daughter as it was for her.
Andrea glanced around the newspaper’s office. Its open floor plan made privacy impossible. She wasn’t anxious for her coworkers to overhear her arguing with one of her sources. She lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, Troy. If Connie confesses that you’re a jerk of a boss or you never miss an opportunity to admire your own reflection, I won’t put that in the paper.”
“I’m serious.” He didn’t sound offended, either. Too bad.
“That’s what’s so irritating.” Andrea’s gaze dropped to the surface of her dented metal desk. It was piled high with folders and research printouts. “What do you think I’m going to do? Withhold the TV remote until Connie tells me all of the office gossip?”
“Something like that.” His tone was dry.
Andrea checked the clock at the bottom of her computer screen. It was minutes after five in the evening. She’d have to leave soon to get Constance and Tiffany. Nothing Troy said was going to change her mind about inviting them to live with her. They represented another act of atonement, another attempt to make amends for past mistakes. Hopefully.
She recalled Constance’s comment about her talking to one of the players despite the media block. “Connie’s loyal to the team. She won’t give up any company secrets.”
“I know.”
Andrea inhaled the dusty air, heavy with the scent of newsprint. “I’ve proven I’m trustworthy as well.”
“You’re also ambitious and determined. That makes you dangerous. You’ll do anything to get ahead.”
That was her past. The memory of that mistake still made her face burn. Luckily, Troy couldn’t see her over the phone. “Why won’t you trust me?”
“We’re on opposite sides, Andy. Positive press sells tickets, but negative news sells papers. My job is to fill the arena. Your job is to sell the news.”
She could hear the door of reason locking behind Troy. Her heart weighed heavy in her chest. “I guess it’s lucky that Connie and I don’t need your permission to room together.” Andrea recradled her telephone receiver.
Troy trusted Constance. Why wouldn’t he trust her? And why did it bother her so much?
“We’re glad you came.” An hour later, Andrea’s roommate shook Constance’s hand as the young mother stood in the entryway of their three-bedroom apartment. Faith then bent to cup Tiffany’s tiny right shoulder. “Hi, Tiffany. I’m Faith. I’m happy to meet you.”
The three-year-old stepped back. She regarded Faith with healthy suspicion, a look that reminded Andrea of the toddler’s mother. Constance stroked her daughter’s fine, honey-blond hair. “Can you say ‘hi’ to Miss Faith?”
Tiffany responded with a barely audible whisper.
Andrea extended her hand. “Let me take your jackets. Then I’ll show you where you can freshen up before dinner.”
Constance smiled at Faith as she helped Tiffany pull off her jacket. “Something smells wonderful.”
Faith glanced at the kitchen to their right. “I made spaghetti for us. But I thought Tiffany would prefer chicken nuggets and French fries.”
Constance chuckled. “Finger foods. Perfect.”
More than an hour later, the dining room table was cleared and the dishwasher was loaded. Even better, Tiffany had lost most of her shyness. Constance helped her small daughter onto the thick, brown sofa, settling Tiffany between her and Andrea. Faith sat on the tan love seat facing them.
Tiffany angled her head to look up at Andrea. “My mommy goes to work.” When the little girl had found her voice, she’d pumped up its volume. Still, her wide green eyes, so like her mother’s, appeared drowsy.
Andrea responded to her young companion in a serious tone. “I know. I’ve seen your mommy at work.”
Tiffany studied Andrea for a moment before relaxing against her mother’s side.
Constance glanced from Andrea to Faith. “Dinner was delicious. Thank you for inviting us.”
Faith crossed her jeans-clad legs. “You’re welcome.”
Andrea shifted her attention from daughter to mother. “Now that you’re working, how long will the shelter allow you to stay with them?”
The pleasure in Constance’s expression dimmed. “They aren’t pressuring us to leave, but I know they’d like to make room for people who are in worse trouble than Tiff and me.”
Tiffany again spoke up. “When my mommy is at work, I stay with Sister Julie.”
Constance wrapped her arm around Tiffany’s tiny torso. “Sister Julianne is in charge of Morning Glory’s day care. They accept donations.”
Andrea brushed a gentle finger across Tiffany’s tiny hand. It was coming up on seven o’clock in the evening. The little girl was growing tired. “Do you like Sister Julianne?”
Tiffany nodded groggily. “But I like my mommy better.”
Andrea grinned. “That’s ni
ce.” She laid her hand back in her lap. “Can she stay at day care even when you move out of the shelter?”
“As long as I can show a financial need.” Constance tucked her hair behind her ears. “My salary is good. But it will be a while before I get on my feet.”
Andrea glanced down at Tiffany. The little girl’s eyes were closed and her lips were parted. Her breathing was deep and even in sleep. She looked at Faith. Her friend nodded. “Faith and I would like you and Tiff to move in with us.”
Constance’s shaky laughter betrayed her nerves. “We don’t really know each other.”
Faith tilted her head to the side. “Do you know anyone else better who has an apartment in Brooklyn?”
Constance’s cheeks flushed. “I guess not. But I have to be extra careful because of Tiff.”
Andrea looked from mother to daughter. “We understand. You don’t have to worry about a long-term commitment. If things don’t work out, just give Faith and me thirty days’ notice, then you can move out. No hard feelings.”
Constance’s gaze remained on her sleeping daughter. She was silent for such a long time Andrea began to wonder at her thoughts.
The young mother looked first at Andrea, then Faith. “What about my ex-husband?”
“What about him?” Faith’s voice held more than bravado. There was a warning for any man foolish enough to raise his hand against a woman or child.
Constance must have heard the warning. She hesitated before explaining, “Suppose he finds out where I live and he comes here?”
Faith sat straighter in the armchair. “I wish he would. I’d—”
Andrea interrupted her friend’s tirade. “Wouldn’t you feel safer knowing you weren’t alone?”
Constance’s eyes were wide and haunted. “I’d feel better knowing I wasn’t putting other people in danger.”
“There’s strength in numbers.” Faith sounded confident.
Constance looked again to her daughter. “I don’t know.”
Faith crossed her arms. “We do.”
Andrea gave Constance an encouraging smile. “When can you both move in?”
Another nervous laugh escaped Constance’s lips. “We don’t have much to move.”
