Smooth Play

by Regina Hart

  Sean’s chuckle seemed admiring. “That’s true. But for all we know, the Insider could be one of us.”

  “You think one of us is freelancing as the Insider?” That thought had occurred to Andrea as well. She forced herself to appear casual as she glanced up and down the media row. Her gaze hesitated on the New York Horn’s Kirk West. She noticed the reporter looking back at her.

  “She’s not an ex-wife or an ex-girlfriend.” Frederick spoke from his seat between Andrea and Jenna. “She’s an ex-employee.”

  Andrea blinked at Frederick. “But the Monarchs haven’t fired anyone in years. Why would an ex-employee start a blog to blast the team now?”

  Sean snorted. “Because this is the first time the Monarchs have made it to the postseason in years. They’re in the spotlight again. That makes them more vulnerable to negative publicity.”

  Frederick shrugged. “Sounds plausible, but the Monarchs have fired someone recently. Troy Marshall.”

  Andrea’s shoulders stiffened. “The Insider postings started before that. Troy isn’t the blogger.”

  Sean leaned forward, waiting until he had the other reporters’ attention. “Speaking of Troy and gossip, word on the street is that Gerry’s calling around to the other franchises in the city. Knicks, Yankees, Mets, Jets, Giants—”

  Jenna interrupted him. “We get the idea, Sean. All of the franchises. Why is he calling them?”

  “He’s advising them not to hire Troy. He’s blackballing his ex-marketing veep.”

  Andrea’s stomach muscles knotted. Her head spun. Déjà vu. “Who told you this?”

  Sean’s brows flew under his bangs. He barked a laugh. “You know I can’t give up my sources.”

  Jenna glanced from Andrea to Sean. “How are the other franchises responding?”

  Sean shrugged. “I don’t know.” There was a sense of excitement around the reporter. His eyes gleamed as though the scent of the hot news story intoxicated him.

  Jenna slid another look toward Andrea. Her hazel green eyes were dark with concern. “For all we know, no one’s taking his calls.”

  Frederick spoke without lifting his attention from his computer monitor. “Gerry isn’t well liked in the city. It got worse after Andrea’s story.”

  Sean straightened in his chair. “Still, Troy got in front of a camera and called his boss a liar and a fraud.” He shrugged again. “That was a really dumb move.”

  “He was trying to protect his team.” Andrea watched the Cleveland Cavaliers and Brooklyn Monarchs return to the court. But her thoughts remained with Troy. His impulsive act had cost him much more than he realized. Gerald was trying to destroy him. She had to find a way to help him, but would he even let her?

  “We need to talk.” Andrea sat in her car in the parking lot of the Empire Arena after the Monarchs third loss of the best-of-seven series. Her cell phone was pressed to her ear as she tried to force her way into the traffic exiting the parking garage. It was a very delicate modern-day game of chicken.

  “About what?” Troy’s voice was puzzled and perhaps a little sad. Had he watched the game?

  “It’s about Gerry.” She nudged her Ford compact a little farther into the traffic pattern.

  “What about him?” Troy’s voice had tensed.

  Eureka! Someone let her join the traffic stream in front of his car. Andrea pulled out, then waved her gratitude. “Can we meet in person?”

  “We can talk at my place.” He gave her the address to his condominium building. “Take Utica Avenue. It’s faster.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Andrea ended the call. She dropped her cell phone back into her purse. She couldn’t afford a ticket if New York’s finest caught her using her cellular in traffic.

  Forty minutes later, she was standing beside the security desk in the posh lobby of a building she’d only ever admired from outside. Troy arrived to escort her to his condo. Her breath still caught each time she saw him in casual clothes. The silver jersey sculpted his broad, well-defined chest and shoulders. The jersey and black warm-up pants gave Troy a relaxed and approachable look, much more in her league than his designer business suits. He smiled at her, and her heart jumped once in her chest.

  Troy nodded at the older security guard before once again capturing her gaze. “Come on up.”

  He led her to the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. The doors closed and they began the slow, silent ascent to his condo on the twentieth floor. Andrea could feel his warmth beside her. She smelled his subtle scent, citrus and cinnamon. She swallowed.

  Several floors into their journey, Troy shifted toward her. “You’re going to make me wait, aren’t you?”

  Andrea’s gaze shot to his face. “For what?”

  His ebony eyes were puzzled. “To talk about Gerry. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  Andrea tried to nod, but her neck felt stiff. “Yes. I was just thinking about the game. Did you see it?”

  Troy leaned against the back of the elevator. “Yes. It’s even harder to watch them lose on TV. Between the Insider’s blog about my being fired and the team’s loss, it hasn’t been a great day.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “How was the postgame press conference?”

  Andrea managed a wry smile. “Marc didn’t make any new fans tonight. He’s taken saying nothing to an art form.”

  A mixed expression of admiration and frustration settled on Troy’s features. “He’s a media executive’s worst nightmare.”

  Andrea laughed with him. The sparkle in his dark eyes, the sexy curve of his full lips framed by his goatee, made the elevator seem even warmer. She looked away, willing the conveyance to move faster.

  They finished the ride in silence. When the doors finally opened, Andrea walked with Troy down a wide, thickly carpeted hallway. He led her into his spotless and spacious condo. The layout was open, made to appear even more so by the bright white walls and warm wood flooring. She hesitated outside of the large, white-tiled kitchen with its modern, stainless steel appliances. Her low-heeled shoes tapped against the hardwood as she hurried to catch up with Troy.

  His combination living/dining room was at least two-and-a-half times the size of the one she shared with Faith, Constance, and Tiffany. Bronze curtains were pulled open over windows that afforded a breathtaking night scene of the lights around the Prospect Heights neighborhood.

  The room housed the latest technology tucked away on modern, black lacquer shelving: a stereo surround-sound compact disc player, huge flat-screen television mounted to the wall above a Blu-ray digital video disc player.

  Andrea stood beside the black leather sofa. “Your home is beautiful.”

  Troy was an arm’s length from her. “Thank you.”

  Andrea’s eyes circled the picture-perfect black and bronze room before settling on her host. “Your office in the Empire had more personality, though. Why is that?”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Is that what you needed to talk with me about?”

  It wasn’t. But now that she was here, Andrea found herself distracted from her mission by her unwise urge to know as much about the marketing executive as she could. She walked the room’s perimeter but discovered more questions than answers.

  The modern art displayed on the walls said more about the artist than the man who’d made the purchases. The black lacquer surfaces of the corner tables were bare of telling trinkets and knickknacks. However, the wall-mounted shelves held a treasure trove of family photos. In one, an attractive older couple stood in Troy’s living room. They were hugging each other while laughing at the camera. In another, a young boy and toddler girl entertained the same couple as they sat playing on the porch of a wood and brick home.

  Andrea gestured toward the photos. “Are these your parents?”

  “Yes, with my niece and nephew.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. He couldn’t possibly see the image from where he stood. Had he memorized the pictures? Since
he didn’t appear in any of them, Andrea assumed Troy had been the photographer at each event.

  She inclined her head toward a picture of a much younger couple posing with the same girl and boy. “Who’s this couple?”

  His stance relaxed. His mouth eased into a smile. “My sister and her husband with their children. But you didn’t come here to look through my family photos, either.”

  Andrea circled back and settled onto the sofa. “Could you sit down, please?”

  Troy hesitated before joining her. “Spit it out, Andy.”

  She ignored the nickname. It was starting to grow on her. “Gerry’s blackballing you with the city’s other franchises.” She sensed the shock shoot through him before he stilled beside her.

  “How do you know that? Did Gerry tell you?” His voice was eerily calm.

  “One of the other reporters told me, but he wouldn’t tell me his source.”

  Troy stood and crossed to the window. “Gerry can say what he wants. No one’s going to listen to him.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  It was as though he hadn’t heard her. “It doesn’t matter anyway because I’m going to get my job back.”

  “You don’t know that, either, Troy.”

  He turned to her. His eyes burned with conviction. “Yes, I do. Once I prove Gerry’s the Insider, I can go back to the Monarchs.”

  Frustration pushed Andrea to her feet. “Troy, you made a mistake. Face it and do something before the situation gets worse.”

  “I lost my job. How can it get any worse?”

  Andrea spread her arms to draw his attention to their surroundings. “You can lose everything. That’s how it can get worse. I know because that’s what happened to me.”

  12

  The anger in Troy’s eyes was replaced with concern. “Why do other reporters ignore you?”

  Andrea swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat. “A couple of years ago, I made a rash decision. It cost me my job. And then I lost everything I had.”

  “What happened?”

  Troy focused his intense gaze completely on her. It seemed as though he was trying to read her mind. Did she want to give him access to her thoughts? She admired him because of his control. She found his confidence attractive. Did she want to reveal to him a part of herself that was less than commendable? She had to. How else could she convince him of the risk he was taking? He had to understand why it was so important to stay in control.

  Andrea held Troy’s gaze despite the shame slowly crushing her. Confession was good for the soul. Or so she’d heard. But it took a lot of courage to make yourself this vulnerable to another person. “I made up a story about a successful professional basketball player whose family was well known and well loved in the community. I was sure the team was giving the player preferential treatment.”

  Troy’s eyebrows leaped almost to his hairline. “What made you think that?”

  “Jealousy.” She responded without emotion. She wouldn’t dress up or excuse her behavior. “I couldn’t believe someone my age could have so much. I was certain someone somewhere was breaking the rules.”

  Troy prompted her. “And were they?”

  “Of course not.” Her courage stumbled. She forced herself to continue. “The day the story ran, the player’s family complained to my editor. I admitted I’d made it up. My editor fired me on the spot, of course. And because the player was from a prominent family in the community, no one would hire me.”

  “The player’s family had you blackballed?”

  Andrea’s cheeks heated. “I deserved it.”

  There was an extended silence as Andrea relived her mistakes. What must Troy think of her? How much harder would it be to earn his trust now?

  He broke the silence first. “Did you ever apologize?”

  “I tried to.”

  “What did he say?”

  “She.” Andrea took another breath. “Jackie Jones saw me at the Morning Glory Chapel’s soup kitchen.”

  Troy’s eyes widened. “Jackie?”

  Willpower kept her standing when her knees wanted to give way. “She said I’d suffered enough. In the eight months since I’d been fired, I’d lost my car and my apartment.” And her mother.

  “So she forgave you.”

  “And she got me an interview with Sports when no one else would give me a chance.”

  Troy paced back to her. “If she’s forgiven you, why can’t you forgive yourself ?”

  Andrea blinked. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

  Troy gave her a curious smile. “You mean you want to work for Sports?” He spread his arms. “It’s a fine paper, but you could do a lot better, Andy. I mean a lot.”

  His compliment took her off guard. She didn’t know how to respond. “You’ve never said that before.”

  “I should have. Why haven’t you left Sports?”

  She combed her fingers through her hair. “You were in D.C. when this happened. It wasn’t a big deal there. But in New York, it was huge. Jackie’s grandfather made sure no editor would talk to me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I brought it on myself.” It was difficult remembering that time in her life. She’d accepted responsibility for her actions, but that didn’t ease the guilt or the shame. “And now I’m concerned Gerry’s trying to hurt your job search. I don’t want you to go through what I went through.”

  Troy crossed to his telephone beside the sofa. “I’ll talk to Gerry and tell him to stop trying to jeopardize my career.”

  Andrea rushed to the phone before he could pick it up. She covered his broad hand with her own. His skin was warm to her touch. “Slow down, Troy. You can’t keep leaping before you look. We don’t have proof Gerry’s calling franchises.”

  He looked at their hands together on the phone before raising his eyes to hers. “A reporter told you he was.”

  His face was so close. She felt his heat. She wanted to stroke her hand over his impossibly sexy goatee. Smooth his furrowed brow. Cup his stubborn chin. “We have to verify his story. You can’t keep acting on impulse. I know you think everything will work out. But people don’t always bounce back that easily.”

  He turned his hand over to take hold of hers. His touch was strong, firm, and a little rough. A working man’s hands on a desk jockey. Andrea shivered.

  Troy straightened away from the phone and turned to her. “You said I can’t sit around hoping no one will pay attention to anything Gerry says.” His tone was low and husky, sliding into her system.

  It was a struggle to stay in their conversation while their bodies were speaking a different language. “We need a plan, one that doesn’t involve further antagonizing your former boss.”

  His ebony eyes twinkled at her. “OK. You work on that plan. I’ll work on another.”

  He stepped closer to her and wrapped an arm loosely around her waist. Andrea’s muscles trembled as Troy’s gaze slid from her eyes to her parted lips. Her breath caught as he lowered his head to hers. Slowly. He hesitated as though giving her time to back out of his embrace. His scent carried to her again. Warmth, citrus, and cinnamon. Andrea sighed. She lowered her eyelids and rose on her toes to meet his mouth.

  His taste was intoxicating, full, and rich. It shot straight into her system and made her head spin. The thick, hard muscles of his chest moved beneath her palms. Her skin tingled as she slipped her hands up to grip his broad, sculpted shoulders. She held on tight as his lips moved over hers, sipping them, shaping them.

  The feel of his lips. The taste of his mouth. The smell of his skin. She was dizzy. Andrea wrapped her arms around his neck and drew even closer to him, the only stable force in her shaking world. Troy tightened both of his arms around her. The feel of his hot, hard body pressed to hers made her nipples tighten. She gasped into his mouth.

  Troy’s heart raced in his chest. He pressed his tongue between Andrea’s lips and deeper into her mouth. Sweet. She was so sweet. Her scent. Her taste. Her touc
h. He stroked his left palm down her slender back to her hips. His right palm cupped the side of her breast. The warm weight was precious in his hand. Almost since the day he’d met her more than three years ago, he’d wondered how the cool and captivating reporter would feel in his arms. She was sweet as a memory, soft as a dream.

  He tested the weight of her breast in his palm. Andrea moaned softly. The sound added fuel to his desire. Troy deepened their kiss. Andrea met his tongue with her own, stroking and teasing him. She explored his mouth the way he wanted to explore her. Deeply. Thoroughly. Over and over again.

  Troy brought his hands up to take Andrea’s blazer from her. She lowered her arms to help him. The material dropped to the floor in a muted swoosh. He tugged her thin, cotton blouse free of the waistband of her pants and slipped his right palm beneath her top to caress her warm, naked back. Her skin was smooth and firm. His muscles tightened with the need to touch more of her, to taste more of her. He cupped her bottom with his left hand, pressing her against him as he slid his right up her back. Troy palmed her breast inside her lacy bra. Her nipple grazed his hand.

  Andrea’s body shivered in his embrace. She broke off their kiss. She arched her back, pressing her hips against his. Troy followed her, planting kisses along the long, elegant curve of her throat. He hesitated above the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her blouse before leaning in. He grazed her right nipple with his teeth through the fabric.

  She gasped and pressed her small hands against his shoulders. “Troy, wait.”

  His body protested, but he managed to pull away from her. “Too much?”

  She swayed as she stepped back. “Too soon. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to lose control this way.”

  Troy frowned his confusion. “What are you afraid will happen?”

  She took another step away and another, then turned from him. “The last time I lost control, I ended up living in the street.”

  He couldn’t understand her. His body was still heated. His mind was sluggish. “Are you afraid you’ll lose your job if we sleep together?”