Smooth Play

by Regina Hart

  “—but you have a fine-looking man. No one would blame you for making as much time as possible with him. So what gives?”

  Andrea shook her head. Misery was a weight pressing on her chest. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe.

  Faith leaned forward in the armchair. Her forehead creased with concern. “Andrea, what’s wrong?”

  She swallowed. The lump in her throat stung. “Troy and I broke up.”

  Faith gaped. “What happened?”

  Andrea blinked once, twice. Then the tears came. She couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. They flooded her cheeks. Faith appeared in front of the sofa with a box of tissues.

  Andrea swung her legs off the sofa and sat up. “Thanks.” Her voice was thick with sobs.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Faith sat beside her. She put her right arm around Andrea’s shoulders.

  Andrea dried her eyes. “Troy doesn’t trust me.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Andrea swallowed again. The lump in her throat still didn’t move. “He accused me of writing negative stories about the Monarchs to advance my career.”

  “You write for Sports. Either the stories you’re writing aren’t negative or you’re doing something wrong.” Faith sounded confused.

  Andrea blew her nose. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  Andrea placed the box of tissues on her jeans-clad lap. “Barron gave me an interview. The feature focuses on the reasons for his alcohol abuse and his decision to enter the rehab program. It’s a good piece.”

  “I’m sure it is. You’re a great reporter.”

  Andrea scowled. “Not according to Troy. First, he asked me not to write the article. Then he asked to review it before it’s published.”

  Faith’s eyebrows shot up again. “Are you going to let him see it?”

  “No.” She was surprised Faith would even ask.

  “Maybe he’d feel better if he saw it first, though.” Her friend’s tone was pensive.

  Andrea angled herself toward Faith. “Do you think I was wrong to refuse to show him the article?”

  Faith’s arm fell away from Andrea’s shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  Andrea pulled a fresh tissue from the box and dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t review his marketing campaigns before he launches them.”

  “But this is different. He’s afraid that your story will hurt the Monarchs.”

  Andrea pulled her fingers through her hair, cupping her head between her hands. “I’m tired of the team coming between us. Everything was fine before he got his job back.”

  Faith spread her hands. “With the man comes his job.”

  Andrea pushed off the sofa. She stalked to the window overlooking the fire escape. “I come with a job, too. He didn’t have any problem with it when he wanted my help stopping the Insider and Gerry. He loved my job then.”

  “What do you want him to do?”

  Andrea folded her arms, consoling herself as she thought of what she couldn’t have. The words came haltingly. “I want him to want all of me. The woman he comes to when he needs help. The friend to whom he confides his secrets. The lover he holds in his arms.” She turned from the window. “And the reporter who writes about the Monarchs. Am I wrong to want that?”

  “I want one of those, too.”

  Andrea returned to the sofa. She dropped beside Faith. “Should I have shown him Barron’s feature?”

  Faith put her arm around Andrea’s shoulders. “You have two choices. You can either show him the feature before it’s printed on Sunday or you can ask him to trust you.”

  “I already asked him to trust me. He said no.”

  “Is this issue worth breaking up your relationship?”

  Another lump formed in Andrea’s throat making her voice husky. “Without trust, we don’t have a relationship.”

  “Then you have your answer.”

  Andrea pulled a tissue from the box to dry her tears. “I hate it when you do your Yoda impersonation. Why can’t you ever give a straight answer? ‘Yes, you did the right thing.’ Or ‘No, you didn’t.’”

  Faith gave Andrea’s shoulders a squeeze before releasing her. “Only you know what’s right for you. No one else can answer that.”

  Tiffany hopped into the living room, bathed and dressed for bed in a butter yellow cotton gown. Constance, wearing dark gray sweatpants and a silver Monarchs jersey, followed her daughter. Her honey blond hair was pinned on top of her head. Loose locks floated around her face.

  When Tiffany saw Andrea, she slowed to a walk. The little girl placed her small, warm hand on Andrea’s cheek. The gesture was similar to her mother’s. “You sad?”

  Andrea’s expression softened. “A little.”

  “Want Bear?”

  Andrea smiled at the offer of the little girl’s stuffed toy. She pulled Tiffany onto her lap. “No, I’ll just hug you.”

  Tiffany giggled as Andrea cuddled her tight.

  Constance lowered herself to the love seat across from her roommates. Her eyes were wide with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Andrea loosened her hold on Tiffany and squared her shoulders. “Troy and I broke up.”

  Constance’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. That explains why he looked sad when I mentioned your name.”

  Andrea’s lips parted with surprise—and hope. She squelched both. “I’m sorry, too.” She looked down at Tiffany. The toddler seemed drowsy. “We need to find more positive relationships so this little one doesn’t think all men are D-O-G-S.”

  Tiffany perked up. “D-O-G spells dog.”

  Andrea stiffened. Constance smothered her laughter behind her right palm.

  Faith arched a brow. “Next time, spell Rottweiler.”

  Constance’s laughter broke free.

  Tiffany sat straighter. “And the dog goes ‘woof, woof, woof.’”

  Andrea shook her head with a smile. “Tiff, I wish you’d told me that sooner.”

  Jaclyn walked into Troy’s office Monday morning, waving the New York Sports’s Features section in one hand and cradling a cup of coffee in the other. Some of her energy came from the caffeine. But Troy was sure his boss was still riding the excitement from the Monarchs’ win Friday night. The team now led the series with two games to one over the New York Knicks.

  “This is the article you warned me about Friday.” She laid the paper faceup on Troy’s desk before settling into one of the visitor’s armchairs. “I told you everything would be fine.”

  Troy glanced at the photo of Barron standing in the middle of the street outside his Prospect Park condo, staring pensively back at him. He’d read the article—twice—Sunday and studied the photo at length. The team captain wore a silver Monarchs warm-up suit. The photo reinforced the article’s message, which was that Barron “Bling” Douglas had traveled a tough and lonely road. However, he was ready to recover, make amends, and become a positive role model in the community. It was a good article. Troy would readily admit he’d been wrong.

  He looked at Jaclyn. “The article’s terrific. It shows Barron in a strong, positive light.”

  Jaclyn sipped her coffee with reverence. “It will also inspire other people to get help with their addictions, which I think was Andrea’s goal.”

  “I called her yesterday to thank her for the article, but she wasn’t there. I left a message.” Actually, he’d left several messages on her cell phone, including one this morning. She still hadn’t returned his call. Please don’t let it be too late to say, “I’m sorry.”

  Jaclyn leaned into the chair. “I have a feeling you should have called to apologize as well.”

  Troy studied his boss. “What do you mean?”

  Jaclyn drank more coffee. “You’re too hard on the media.”

  His discomfort increased at his boss’s criticism. “I’m only as tough as I need to be to protect the team’s image.”

  “Protecting the team’s image is my job. We’
ve talked about that before.” Jaclyn crossed her legs, adjusting the skirt of her gold dress over her right knee. “I’ve always been impressed with your marketing campaigns. They’re strong and memorable.”

  “Thank you.” Troy heard a “but.”

  “But you treat the media like our opponents.”

  Troy struggled against a rising sense of defensiveness. “I’m cautious with the press because I want to avoid bad publicity.”

  “As a result, you’re alienating them. I want the Monarchs to have a good relationship with the press. We can’t grow our fan base without media coverage. That’s Marketing 101.”

  Troy drummed his fingertips on his desk. “I have good reason to be suspicious of the press. If reporters sense any negativity in a story, they’ll exploit it.”

  She gestured with her mug toward the newspaper on Troy’s desk. “Andrea didn’t exploit Barron, and she certainly could have.”

  “We got lucky.” Troy remembered the disappointment in Andrea’s eyes.

  “This wasn’t luck. We can’t dictate what reporters write. If they give us positive stories, we’ll thank them. If they write something negative, we’ll deal with it.”

  Troy spread his hands. “With all due respect, Jackie, I’d rather be proactive than reactive.”

  Jaclyn’s tone was dry. “Your idea of being proactive got you fired. Remember?”

  Heat rose into Troy’s cheeks. Dammit. He was a grown man. Why was he blushing? “I’ve learned from that experience. I know I need to plan before I react.”

  Jaclyn arched a brow. “Was that Andrea’s influence?”

  Troy’s throat muscles worked as he struggled with his regrets. “Yes.”

  Jaclyn’s gaze dropped to the paper laying untouched on Troy’s desk. When she raised her eyes, Troy saw the curiosity in them. “You’ve seemed preoccupied lately and a little sad. Did you and Andrea have a falling out because of this story?”

  Troy sank back into his chair. He was reluctant to admit just how wrong he’d been. “I thought it would cause trouble for Barron and the team. I asked her not to write it.”

  Jaclyn briefly closed her eyes. “I thought you were past that, at least with her.”

  He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I called Sunday to apologize, but she won’t return my messages.”

  Jaclyn sighed. “Troy, you’ve got to make some changes.”

  Troy stared blindly at his desk. “How can I when she won’t talk to me?”

  “I’m not talking about Andrea. I’m talking about here.”

  Panic made him cold. He’d just gotten his job back. Was he about to lose it again? “What changes?”

  Jaclyn uncrossed her legs and sat forward, cupping the coffee mug between her palms. “Your blind loyalty to the team has been the greatest threat to the Monarchs all season. You withheld your knowledge of Barron’s addiction and challenged Gerald in the press.”

  Troy held Jaclyn’s gaze with difficulty. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sure you won’t make the same mistakes again. But I don’t want you making similar ones, either.”

  “I won’t.”

  She glanced again at the feature. “What about your reaction to Andrea’s story? Asking her not to run it was over the top.”

  “I know. I should have realized she’d do a good job with it.”

  Jaclyn nodded. “Andrea has been very fair in her coverage of the franchise over the years. If it weren’t for her, Marc’s reputation would have been ruined.”

  That possibility gave Troy pause. Where would the team be without DeMarcus as its head coach? More than likely watching the postseason games from their sofas. “And Gerry would still be co-owner.”

  “Stop. You’ll give me nightmares.”

  Troy sent her a reluctant smile. “I’ll work on improving my relationship with the press. I’ll reach out to them more and not give them such a hard time when they’re working on a story.”

  “Good.” Jaclyn rose from her chair. “I hope things work out for you and Andrea, too. I think she’s just what you need.”

  Troy stood, too. “I know. But am I what she needs?” The answer scared him.

  Jaclyn tipped her head to the side. A slight smile curved her lips. “I think you are.”

  “Why?” Troy’s pulse raced with renewed hope.

  “I’ve seen the two of you together.”

  Troy watched his boss leave after making that cryptic comment. What had Jaclyn meant? What had she seen? And how could he convince Andrea to give him another chance?

  22

  Andrea walked into the Sports’s reception area Monday afternoon. She should have known Troy wouldn’t go away just because she wasn’t returning his calls. Her knees grew weak at the sight of him in a gunmetal gray, slim-cut suit and sapphire tie. He turned and caught her gaze. Andrea’s heart tripped.

  “Hello, Troy. What can I do for you?” She kept her voice and expression cool even as the muscles in her stomach quivered like Jell-O.

  “Have lunch with me.”

  Andrea didn’t trust his invitation or his crooked smile. Did he intend to take away her home court advantage so he could rake her over the coals about her feature on Barron? She was proud of that piece, and nothing he could say would change her mind.

  She raised her chin. “No, thank you.”

  His smile wavered. Uncertainty winked in his ebony eyes. “Andy, I’d really like to talk with you.”

  Andrea angled her head, no longer sure of his intent. “I’m listening.”

  Troy glanced toward Vella, who sat at her receptionist’s desk, before reclaiming Andrea’s gaze. “In private.”

  “Fine.” Andrea spun on her heel and led him to the newspaper’s conference room.

  He was walking too close to her. Andrea’s body wanted to lean into his. She wanted to bury her face in his neck and breathe his citrus and cinnamon scent. She fisted her hands and increased her pace.

  As they crossed the newsroom, she was battered by curious stares from the other reporters. Andrea did her best to ignore them. She just wanted to get through this confrontation. It was too bad they were meeting in the cramped, stale-smelling conference room. But she didn’t want him to tear out her heart in a crowded restaurant.

  At the doorway, Andrea stepped aside so Troy could precede her into the room. She shut the door. “Let’s have it, Troy. I’ve been preparing for this conversation all weekend.”

  “I doubt that.” He rested his hips against the edge of the conference table. His hands gripped the scarred wood on either side of him. “You did a great job with the story on Barron.”

  Andrea blinked. Was she imagining his compliment? She moved farther into the room to put space between them. “You liked the story?”

  Troy shifted on the table to face her. “So did Jackie. If you’d returned any one of my messages, I’d have told you.”

  They weren’t going to have a confrontation. Relief eased her strained muscles. But then regret made its presence known. “Thanks for coming by to tell me.” Why hadn’t he sent her an e-mail? Andrea started toward the door.

  Troy’s brows knitted in confusion. “Everything’s OK. The article didn’t hurt the team.”

  Andrea paused with her hand on the doorknob. Disappointment was a bitter taste in her mouth. “I told you it wouldn’t.”

  “You were right. It showed Barron in a positive light, and it was an encouraging story.”

  Was it her imagination or was Troy tripping over himself to praise her work? “I want the story to inspire other people who’re struggling with fears or negative feelings to get help.”

  “Your story will do that.”

  Was that pride in his voice? Was he actually proud of her article? Andrea gave him a hard stare. Could she trust that his new attitude toward her work was permanent and not a temporary aberration?

  Andrea released the doorknob and crossed the room. She needed the space between them. “If I can help even one person with this story, I’ll b
e satisfied. Barron would be, too.”

  “I’m sure you’ll help a lot of people.” Troy stood from the table. His arms hung loosely at his sides.

  “Are we OK, you and I?”

  It was tempting to pretend not to understand his question, but Andrea didn’t want to prolong this pain. Every minute in his company weakened her resolve. But she had to do what was best for her in the long term.

  Andrea stood in front of the stack of old and dusty storage boxes. She gathered her courage and a breath, inhaling the musty stench of the files behind her. “No, Troy. We’re not OK.”

  Pain flashed in his eyes. “Why not?”

  The emotions flickering over his features tore at her heart. Would these cuts now protect her from heartbreak later? “I told you I wasn’t writing a negative article about Barron.”

  “And I told you I realized you were right.”

  “Why didn’t you trust me before the article was printed?”

  Troy smoothed his goatee. “I have trouble completely trusting the press.”

  Andrea wouldn’t let him get away with that one. “I can’t imagine you asking Jenna, Fred, or even Sean to review their articles before publication. Why am I different?”

  “Because you mean more.” His voice was strained.

  Unfair! “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Troy spread his arms. “I wasn’t in a relationship with Jenna, Fred, or Sean. But with you, if things had turned out differently, it would have hurt more.”

  “Because we were in a relationship, you should have trusted me.”

  Troy smoothed his hand over his wavy hair. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

  Andrea looked away. With Troy in front of her and the boxes at her back, she felt trapped. “But it’s your job to protect the team, isn’t it? And, since you don’t trust me, you saw my article as a threat.”

  Troy narrowed his eyes. “That’s not fair.”

  “I agree.”

  Andrea could tell by his tight features that Troy realized she referred to his treatment of her.

  Frustration oozed from every angle of his long, leanly muscled form. “I said I was sorry.”

  “I forgive you.”