“She likes sports, eh?”
“Yeah. She was a spoiled, bored socialite who thought she’d get her kicks by taming the big bad basketball player from the wrong side of the tracks.” Barry took another long sip of his drink.
“But you showed her, didn’t you?”
He finally let a small half grin show at her taunt.
“You didn’t tell me yet why you married your late husband?” He gave her a mock-daring look. She figured—what the hell? Since they seemed to be sharing secrets.
“Not because I was in love with him. He was a wonderful person and he adored me. He was very attentive and indulgent, kind of overwhelmed me with it. I confess I’m a sucker for that kind of attention. He also had lots of money and a prestigious family. I guess I was impressed with it all.”
“So you married him for his money?” Barry’s face was neutral.
She nodded. “It looks that way.” She stood up, averting her eyes. She did not want to have to explain the unexplainable to him. But the sound of his amused laughter startled her and she turned back to him.
“Then I don’t get it—why the money problems?” Barry asked.
Roxanne had no idea what to make of his response, but she was relieved as much as she was surprised. “You don’t pay attention to the news much do you?”
“Only sports,” he admitted.
“I suppose I should be thankful for that. Though it seems you’re the only one. I’ve become a branded woman these days. I’ve been labeled a gold digger, and stories invariably include veiled hints about Donald’s suspicious and untimely death. Every time I think the story is dead they turn around and find something else to talk about. It’s almost as if someone’s feeding them stories.” She sat back down.
“What about the money?”
“Oh that. I gave it all back.” She looked at him with a shrug. “I denied the will. They would have contested it anyway.” She took another sip of her brandy, remembering again what she needed from this man. An uneasy feeling swept over her.
“Then you didn’t marry him for his money after all?”
“It looks that way.”
He prompted her with an arch of one brow and a not quite CIA interrogation-level stare.
She mentally squirmed and then squared her shoulders. He’d asked for it. “Bonnie chalks it up to fatherly neglect, but I…”
“Who’s Bonnie?”
“My caretaker,” she responded automatically to his interruption.
“You get advice from your gardener?” He was enjoying this.
“No, she takes care of me,” she told him without the silent “stupid ass” tacked on for attitude. “Since my mother died.”
That took the amused look off his face.
“When you were a child.” He sat back and swirled the liquid in his glass. “Was it a lot of money?” He changed to her other least favorite topic.
“Not that again. This soul-baring stuff isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
“I like seeing you squirm.”
“I can think of a lot better ways for you to make me squirm,” she said what was on her mind for better or worse. Anything was preferable to this painful conversation. She’d already broken her rule about easy affairs with shallow men. Right now she felt as if she were naked and covered with boils, figuratively speaking. But the real issue was the fact that Barry Dennis was far, far from a shallow man. She shuddered. That’s what made him both exciting and frightening.
“Oh, we’ll get to more of that.”
“All right then.” She resigned herself with a sigh. “Yes. Don left me lots of money. Even by your standards,” she told him.
“How do you know what my standards are? Where I come from if you had ten dollars in your pocket that was considered a lot of money. We used to dream of having hundreds. I never imagined thousands, never mind millions of dollars.” Barry had stopped smiling as he remembered.
“And now you’re a multimillionaire.”
He looked at her seriously and paused a second. “Yeah. But my goal in life is to die without a penny. Money’s worthless unless it’s spent.”
She laughed at that and his lopsided grin flashed at her. She felt easier with the conversation back to him again.
“What are you doing for money now that you got fired from your TV job?” he asked.
Her ease was short lived. He couldn’t possibly be reading my mind. Then she took a deep breath. There wouldn’t be a more opportune time.
“Don’t worry about me. I already got the job back. I start again next week and this time they’ll stick to the contracted three days a week.” She smiled, but her pulse was racing at the high stakes gamble she was taking.
“How did you manage that negotiation?” Barry looked impressed. Roxanne took another, deeper breath.
“I promised them I could get that interview with you—and they believed me.” She kept her smile in place but didn’t take any more breaths as she watched the astonished look on his face. Then all at once, he broke out in uproarious laughter. She breathed again.
“This means you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it.” His laughter subsided and he shook his head. “I knew I didn’t have to waste my sympathy on you.”
“Great. I’ll call your agent next week and arrange it.”
“There’s one condition though.” His half-grin was in place.
“What’s that?”
“It has to be a live interview.” Mischief blazed in his eyes and the one dimple creased his cheek.
She knew he must be up to no good, but for some reason she trusted this man. He had something on his mind. But she felt safe. “You’ve got a deal.” She raised her chin to meet the challenge of his dare. It was like they were playing a game.
The next morning Roxanne woke feeling contented. Sun streamed through the tall, uncovered windows of the unfamiliar room. She turned her head to see Barry, eyes closed, hair disheveled, smelling of musty sweat and sex with a hint of smoke. She felt her stomach clench and her nerves tingle and it felt good. She stretched her length alongside his. She didn’t even come close to reaching his toes and she smiled to herself. As he lay there on his back, eyes closed and breathing deeply, she contemplated how she was going to wake him. Propping herself on her elbow, she took a long look at his face. She couldn’t resist touching the dark scratchy stubble along his chin. Her finger continued its travel toward his full lips where she lightly caressed their softness.
“I wasn’t dreaming after all,” Barry said even before he opened his eyes and reached over to touch a loose strand of Roxanne’s hair.
She jumped back and laughed. “Oh yes you were, but the dream isn’t over yet,” she whispered.
“Now I remember. This is where I lose all the control of a sane man. I don’t think I’ll ever wake up.” He took her in his arms, enveloping her.
Roxanne felt playful and her fingers went from light tickling of the taught muscles in his abdomen to an all-out attack. The ensuing struggle had them both panting from their laughter.
“I give up. I’m ravenous. I need some food. I think I spent more energy last night than in an entire series of playoff games. Let’s go out to breakfast.” Barry rolled out of bed.
Roxanne mentally noted the comparison to basketball. She surmised that’s how everything and everyone was with Barry—compared to basketball.
Swooshing her covers aside, she revealed her naked body. “I’ll go out, but I’ll look awfully conspicuous in my cocktail dress.” Roxanne lifted her brow in mock challenge. She loved the fiery glow of passion that lit Barry’s blue eyes. He sucked in his breath and if she wasn’t mistaken, she’d caught him off guard this time. She didn’t know if it was because of her—or because of himself and his reaction to her.
The long, lean muscles of his body seemed always to be in motion. She sighed. It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry too, but she thought she’d much rather stay in and play with Barry.
He moved a hand onto her stomach
. Both their eyes followed its motion as if hypnotized. She couldn’t remember a man’s touch ever being so stimulating. He moved his fingers in a circle around her navel and all she could do was nothing. Barry looked up at her and she dragged her eyes away from his hand to meet his gaze.
“You don’t want to go out?” he confirmed.
“Not unless you know of any place formal to go for breakfast?” She spoke softly. Roxanne knew he was hungry, but she also knew there was something else pulling him, another more powerful urge. This man had complete control of her. But he didn’t have any control. They were both lost in their sensual awareness of each other. And Roxanne didn’t care; she reveled in it; marveled at the pleasure of complete abandonment.
“That’s right, all you have is that slinky number from last night. Maybe we’ll find something to eat in the kitchen.” He leaned close to her as he spoke. She could feel her heart beat faster the closer he got to her, anticipating the hot silky feel of his naked body against hers.
But he never touched her. Instead, he leapt out of bed. She didn’t bother hiding her disappointment and he laughed at the pout on her face. Now she knew what it felt like to be teased. Roxanne wasn’t sure how much of her disappointment was from frustrated passion—and how much was from bruised ego. Apparently his appetite for food was greater than his appetite for her after all. She kicked at the blankets spilling onto the floor and then propped herself up to make herself comfortable.
“I hope I can find some food. I really am starved,” Barry said as he turned and looked around the room as if he would find it in the bedroom.
“You sound like a stranger in your own house. Ah, but I forgot—someone else takes care of you.”
“I have a housekeeper.” He gave her a warning look, as if he had something to hide. Roxanne wondered if he was hiding another woman, then decided he had to deal with that problem himself. She refused to think about it again.
“I won’t be gone long…” he stopped and picked up the alarm clock and gave it a puzzled frown. “Look at this. It’s almost noon—no wonder I’m so damned hungry!” He towered over her lounging body.
“I confess. I turned off the alarm last night. I hope you don’t mind.” She wasn’t worried. Roxanne couldn’t help the smile that escaped. Barry stood there stark naked before her with the alarm clock in one hand and the other on his hip. What a picture he made, she thought. His features slowly turned to that familiar grin. How could he only smile with half his mouth—and make it so engaging—she wondered? It emphasized the dimple in that cheek. And his eyes: relentless blue blazes of color that intimidated by the very virtue of their intensity. Or was it Barry, the man, who was so intimidating? He stood exceedingly tall, but not lanky or awkward. She let her eyes wander down the length of his body to figure how this could be so. He had ropey muscles that defined his body and gave him that look of perpetual motion. She decided that he was simply perfectly proportioned. In fact, Roxanne decided, he was simply gorgeous, and her smile deepened at the thought.
He saw there wasn’t an apologetic bone in her body. But it didn’t matter; he couldn’t work up any anger with her. Somehow they were in synch. And that never happened.
“I guess I had nothing that important to do after all. Certainly nothing I’d rather do,” Barry said. Her dark hair fell around her face her in chaos—a very attractive chaos. Her smile was as lively as if she’d been up for hours. The sexy stretch of her curvy body warmed his blood. His favorite thing about her, he decided, was the mole on her cheek that danced around with each expression she made, emphasizing her mood. Right now, she looked in a playful mood. So playing games it was.
Then it occurred to him. “Damn. I’m playing in that charity golf tournament tomorrow and I was supposed to get in some practice rounds today.” He knew there’d been something he wanted to get up early for. But as his gaze followed the sumptuous line of her body down from her shoulder, dipping in at her waist, rounding out at her hip and making a long slow curve down her thigh to her toes, he made a decision. “The heck with practice. It’s only golf.”
“Excellent choice. Now I’m hungry too.” She moved to get out of bed, but he stopped her. He pounced on her and hugged her around her waist, cupping his hands down around her bottom and squeezing her to him.
She squealed. “I thought you said you were ravenous?”
“I am.”
The phone rang. The flashing light of the alarm clock said nine-thirty. Sunday morning. The shrill sound was loud to Barry’s half asleep ears. He stretched his long arm out over Roxanne to answer it, still in a groggy state of awareness. Dave McCall’s voice boomed from the other end of the line.
“Hey Barry, what are you doing at home? You’re not still in bed are you? Geez, this is one for the books!” Dave’s laughter caused Barry to sit up with a start, jerking the phone from its spot on the nightstand and waking Roxanne.
“What are you talking about?” Barry’s attention was diverted from the phone call while he smiled at Roxanne’s lazy yawn as she prepared to command his full attention.
“Barry? Are you there? You didn’t forget about the golf tournament…”
“Oh no. That’s right! The charity tourney for the Hospital is today—What time is it?”
“It’s tee-off time. That’s why I called you—hey what’s going on? You okay? You get hit on the head or something? This is a big charity event—the management made it crystal clear this is a command performance. You can’t back out.”
“I’ll be there within an hour. Make some excuse for me.” Barry threw the phone down on the bedside table and bounded out of bed, this time barely giving Roxanne a cursory glance.
She sat up. She’d heard his conversation. He figured he didn’t need to explain the situation to her.
He was fully dressed by the time she got out of bed to begin dressing. He wondered what she was thinking as he stood in the door to the bathroom, calculating whether or not he had enough time to shave. He decided he didn’t.
“I haven’t done anything like this since I was in college,” he said “If you’re supposed to be running this show, how come you didn’t remind me about it this morning? You forget too?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe it.” He grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his pants and headed for the door.
“I can’t believe I forgot. But in my defense I wasn’t planning on going. Laura’s in charge of this event.” She followed him to the door, fully dressed. He was glad he decided not to shave.
“You always dress so fast?” he asked as he pounded down the stairs and to the front door with her following.
“No. But I didn’t have much choice of what to wear today.” She gave him a big smile as they walked out the door. “Since I made you late, the least I could do is get ready quick.”
“Then you won’t be going with me to the tournament?” He stopped to face her as they reached his car.
“No. I can’t. I have a business lunch with someone from out of town. I have to pick him up from the airport soon.” She looked at her watch.
The idea of a man from out of town triggered an automatic gut clench. What was wrong with him?
They stood and looked at each other. The sudden end of their time together hit him. He wrapped one arm around her waist and caressed her cheek with his other hand. Her eyes looked sad for an instant before she closed them. He kissed her. Her mouth was hot and the kiss deep. He pulled her closer so that her hips molded to his. His pulse picked up pace. He didn’t want the kiss to end. He didn’t want to let her go. But he did.
He gently pushed her back from him, all too aware of time now. Her face glowed. Roxanne smiled up at him now, carefree as ever. The sun glistened on her dark hair giving her an almost surreal glow. His stomach tightened and he took a deep breath.
“We’ll have to pick up where we left off next time we meet,” he said. He chided himself for making this promise, but he felt the need to.
“I’ll call your agent about the interview,” she sa
id.
He’d almost forgotten about that. He opened the car door to let her in. He’d need to give her a ride since they had never gone back to the country club to retrieve her car.
“You can just drop me at the train station. I’ll get my car later. I don’t want to make you any later than you already are.”
“Are you sure? I hate to let you go so soon,” he admitted. He started the car.
She laughed and slunk back in her seat. “C’est la vie,” she declared in a sexy French accent.
She sounded as if there was a giggle harbored just beneath the surface. Her carefree attitude was refreshing and too contagious for him to do anything but laugh.
They arrived at the station before he had time to think anymore about it. There was a train ready to pull out so Roxanne had to hurry. She leaned over and kissed him one last time as she opened her door to leave.
“Au revoir—as you French say,” he said.
“Yes. Until we meet again.” She flung the words over her shoulder as she ran toward the train, dressed in her silver heels and slinky black evening dress with the mink-trimmed hemline.
He smiled at that picture of her and concentrated to make it stay permanently in his memory. He was reluctant to turn away from her and only did so when she disappeared onto the train. Then he drove off—fast.
It was like changing gears in a rusty old car, trying to get his mind off Roxanne and onto the day that lay ahead of him. This was one weekend Barry knew he’d never forget, but he had to put the memory on a back burner. It was time to get serious.
Time to face the crowd waiting at the golf tournament.
Chapter 3
“BARRY MUST be having car trouble.” Dave told a group of people after he got off the phone.
“That hardly seems likely. The man has four cars. What is it you’re trying to cover up? Is he sick? Or hurt?” one of the young reporters demanded.
No one was buying it. So much for his creativity when it came to making excuses, Dave thought. All he did was make people suspicious, especially the reporters who knew Barry.
Playing the Game Page 5
