He kicked the wall.
“Damn.” He felt lit with anger and when he looked up he saw Dave.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. We just have to win that’s all.” Barry started to brush past Dave, embarrassed by his outburst. He was usually quiet and introspective. He had no time to waste in preparing.
“Wait. Ho.” Dave reached his massive hand out to Barry’s shoulder to stop him. “We are going to win.” He smiled. “We usually do.” Dave said no more, then let Barry go.
Unconsoled, but appreciative of the break, Barry headed for his quiet corner in the locker room to tackle the seemingly impossible task of harnessing all the concentration and energy he possessed and channeling it toward winning this game. It wasn’t as automatic a process as it used to be. His usually well-disciplined mind had been on vacation lately.
He walked into the open door of the locker room, took a right, and headed for the narrow stall that bore his name. He sat in the chair and put his head in his hands, thankful for the relative emptiness of the room. Linking his hands behind his neck, he bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut. He drew in his mind the picture of a scoreboard, with Boston ahead by one at the final buzzer. He imagined the crowd screaming and his teammates jumping in the air. He imagined a championship banner being hoisted to the rafters. There were more cheers, deafening cheers. But there was the game tonight and he forced his mind to go back. Mentally positioning himself in each spot around the basket, he threw the ball over and over again in his mind. Then he conjured up the opponent and in his head he and his teammates beat each one of them with three-on-one plays, two-on-one plays, four-on-two plays, and one-on-one until he went over in his mind nearly every play combination they. In his mind he and his teammates beat their opponents, and as always, the crowd cheered. Even when they were on the road, at least in his mind. He blinked his eyes and sat up. He looked around and now the air felt different, as if it were electrically charged. He saw everything all at once. He was ready to play this game.
Chapter 5
“FOURTEEN ASSISTS in the first half—the guy is incredible,” Mark admitted. They weren’t sitting too far from the bench. Although Roxanne tried to give Mark her undivided attention throughout the game, she watched Barry as if he were the only man on the court. And when he was on the bench, she stared at him then too. His demeanor, his unselfish play, his competitive toughness and his unrelenting coolness set the tone for the game. It was impossible to say exactly how he did it, but he led the team with his iron will. It was not a close game so far. The Celtics were up by twelve points at the half and the second half looked to her like it might be a blowout. But Barry’s face did not crack that familiar smile, not even once. His intensity and concentration were unmatched by anyone on either side.
“Rox, I hate to bring this up, but something’s been bothering me,” Mark said. He took a long swallow of his beer.
“Mmm?” She couldn’t imagine what he was going to bring up. The possibilities were too numerous. She looked straight ahead at the halftime show.
“About Don. That night…”
She shot her head around to look at him squarely. Of all the possibilities that ran through her mind, this was not one of them. He’d stopped talking and returned her stare. He looked serious. And something else.
“What about that night, Mark?”
“You told me the police closed the investigation on Don’s death, didn’t you?”
“Yes. They closed it long ago. Why?”
“Nothing. I guess. Just someone asking strange questions around the office. I must be getting paranoid, but I figured it’s either someone looking into Don’s death or…”
“Or what?”
“Or looking into my relationship with you.” His eyes rested on hers and trapped them.
“No. I know what it must be. Penelope hired a private investigator to look into Don’s death.” She didn’t want to continue this discussion and couldn’t believe he’d started it. She looked back toward the entertainment on the court.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. My attorney tells me it’s going nowhere.”
“What do you mean? Why would she do a thing like that? Unless…”
“That’s right. Unless she thought I murdered Don.” Roxanne turned and looked directly at him again. Mark’s brow furrowed.
“Why aren’t you worried? Why haven’t you said anything? You weren’t even going to mention it, were you?” Mark accused.
“No. It wasn’t worth mentioning. Why should I?” She gave him a hard look. She didn’t like it when anyone took her ex-mother-in-law seriously. Least of all Mark.
“Why? Because I was with you that night?” Mark’s voice lowered as if he had something to hide.
“You already signed an affidavit for the police. So did a dozen other people. They know where I was that night. So you can see how ludicrous Penelope’s investigation is. I’m sure her PI will hit a dead end and have to give up on it soon.” She turned back to the basketball court. The teams were beginning their warm-up for the second half.
Mark laughed. That surprised her and she turned back to him.
“You are a naïve one sometimes.”
“What do you suggest I do? Get all uptight and worried she’s going to get me convicted of a murder I didn’t commit? That no one committed because it wasn’t even murder? It was a God damned accident, Mark. Or… I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She’d never been so angry at him or upset about this investigation. The only reason she’d been able to handle the situation up until now was because she really hadn’t taken it seriously. She, in fact, refused to take it seriously. And Mark wasn’t about to bully her into changing her mind.
“You’re probably right. As long as the police closed the case officially.” He didn’t sound convinced but at least his voice held a conciliatory note. She turned and smiled at him and they watched the Celtics trounce their opponents in the second half.
Sandwiched between Barry and Mark, Roxanne poured the champagne again, from a fresh bottle. The conclusion of the game hadn’t gone as she’d planned. Mark had sidestepped all her attempts to talk business. And then he very ungraciously stuck to her side as she waited for Barry in the hall near the locker rooms. In the end, in spite of her insistence that Mark take the limo back to his hotel and they meet to talk business the next day, it was Barry who suggested that Mark accompany them to dinner.
She directed the limo driver to take them to Turner Fisheries at Copley Place where a table awaited them for a late supper. The limo whisked them away from the front of the Boston Garden amidst a crowd of pleased spectators. She knew Barry was unaccustomed to this Hollywood-style exit. He usually departed quietly from the indoor garage in his own car, never hitting the streets or seeing the fans. Mark was used to limo rides, but even he seemed impressed with their exit.
“Jesus. Now I know what it must be like to be a rock star,” Barry quipped, looking back through the rear window at the retreating crowd. He then turned his sardonic smile on Roxanne and relaxed back into the plush seat as she handed over his champagne in a crystal flute.
Roxanne vibrated with nervous anxiety was barely confined beneath the surface of her smile. She still had a terrible feeling about the night and that Barry was up to no good. She wasn’t thrilled with Mark either. She had no idea how she was going to handle this crazy competitiveness between them. What was it with men anyway? She gave in to her instincts and let them take over.
“I don’t blame those fans for mobbing you. You were dazzling tonight.” She caressed Barry’s chin with her free hand, lightly brushing her fingers over his lips.
“Not you too, Roxy. All I need is another adoring fan.”
“I can’t help myself. Your performance tonight excited me, “ she whispered. It wasn’t hard to send the message about where she stood. The memories of her nights with Barry coiled her insides un
til she felt herself melting.
The two men looked at each other. Barry’s blazing blue eyes met Mark’s glance without apology. It was settled. Her choice was clear to them.
“You’re not surprised, I hope?” Roxanne addressed Barry. “After all, you won the game and a deal is a deal.” She took a long sip of her champagne and glanced at Mark, giving him no explanation. After all, they’d been over this ground before. And it was his idea to stick around and intrude on her date with Barry.
“The game was excellent. I haven’t been to one in a while. I forgot how exciting they can get,” Mark said in a professional voice.
When the limo pulled up to the Marriott at Copley Place, Roxanne was the last to get out. She drained the remainder of her champagne before she did. She knew she’d have to have a long talk with Mark after this night was over. In addition to business. Even if he brought it on himself, she knew he was disappointed, maybe even hurt. The twinge caused her to look at him, maybe send him some kind of message of friendship. But he was not receptive, not tonight, not now as he stood on the curb waiting for her. She only hoped Barry would have mercy on his opponent.
Getting out of the car, she dragged her coat across the seat behind her and took Barry’s hand as he helped her to the sidewalk. Barry wasted no time putting his arm around her as if staking his claim. Mark stepped in behind them. He followed the couple as they entered the restaurant. They were immediately escorted to a table ahead of the waiting crowd.
Barry spoke under his breath to Roxanne, “More adoring fans. How nice,” as a woman approached with a napkin and pen in hand before they could even sit.
“Be gracious now, Mr. Superstar,” she whispered back, enjoying the easy intimacy. Roxanne stepped aside to let the woman get the autograph and took the opportunity to give her attention to Mark.
“The price of fame, I guess.” She smiled at him and took his arm, leading him to sit.
“Small price considering he’s won you for the evening.”
They both looked up at the sound of the woman with the autograph squealing with delight when Barry gallantly kissed her on the cheek before sending her on her way. He took his seat then.
“Gracious enough for you?” He raised one brow.
“You could have simply kissed her hand. No need to go too far.” She turned to Mark. “Next thing you know he’ll be kissing women on the lips, then who knows what after that?”
“If you’re a good girl tonight, Roxy, you may find out what comes after that.” Barry leaned toward her, locking her with a stare. She took a long breath, but didn’t speak. She was too aware of Mark watching them.
The waiter came with the menus just then and she was thankful for the diversion. She had to try and keep the conversation neutral and include Mark. Even though it was Barry who invited him along, he hadn’t made any effort to be anything but competitive.
“I’m starved. Thank goodness you arrived.” Mark welcomed the waiter. Roxanne grabbed at the topic of food and managed to take control of the conversation, leading it in a more tame direction. Mark’s relief was apparent in his sudden enthusiasm for good pasta. But Roxanne knew as the evening progressed that the pleasant, benign conversation only reigned because Barry let it. She hadn’t won any battles. It was only a truce.
At the end of the meal, Mark ordered coffee and Barry ordered brandy. Roxanne didn’t know what to have so she ordered nothing. The evening had strained her to her outer limits and she was kicking herself mentally for ever allowing this to happen. Next week, when she was looking back on it, she would probably appreciate the experience much more than she was at the present.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk business at all tonight, Rox. But then perhaps this evening wasn’t the appropriate time.” Mark looked at Barry and then continued. “We’ll have to get together again tomorrow, maybe have a business lunch.”
“Sounds perfect. Are you calling it an evening now, Mark?”
“No need to run off,” Barry added with a hint of sarcasm. Roxanne glared at him to behave.
“I’ll grab a taxi and see you tomorrow. Call me on my cell.” Mark rose and she rose with him. She thought for a second he was going to give her a kiss as it was his custom to do. But she put out her hand and he shook it instead. Mark nodded at Barry and left. Roxanne turned to sit again, but Barry had risen and she bumped smack into the wall of his chest.
“Why don’t we leave too?” He grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her at the impact and held her there to wait for her response.
“Why don’t we?” she breathed in his freshly showered scent. Anticipation raced through her body, exciting every nerve ending as if an alarm had gone off. They left the restaurant and got in their waiting limo.
Slouching back into the deeply cushioned seat with his legs extended all the way out in front of him, Barry once again accepted the glass of champagne she handed to him. She settled in next to him and leaned into his warmth.
“We better slow down with the champagne. Driving all the way to Marblehead will take a long time.” Barry warned her in mock seriousness.
“Speak for yourself. If there’s one thing I learned to do very well in my role as a volunteer fund-raiser, it’s how to hold my champagne.” Roxanne’s smile held in the bubble of laughter. She was nervous with anticipation at bringing this man to her home. She hadn’t felt this way since, well, since the first night she met Barry.
“And you’re very good at your fund-raising,” Barry observed.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, although I’m not so sure it was meant that way.” Roxanne’s pretensions were completely forgotten. She was momentarily defenseless, trusting herself to him utterly.
“Don’t worry. I admire people who make the most of what they have.”
“Oh? And what is it that I have?” she asked.
“You have, little lady, what I believe would be called charm—but a special brand, most effective on those of the opposite sex. Something I’m sure of which you are very well aware.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He raised his brows.
“You don’t do too badly yourself, Mr. Superstar. I bet I could learn a lot from you,” Roxanne said.
“To the contrary. I don’t charm people. I know them. It has the opposite effect a lot of times.” His half-smile appeared and he added, “You’d be surprised how many people don’t find my sarcasm very charming. For instance, Mark. I bet he didn’t find me too charming.”
She laughed when she should have been upset. “Good example. But then we really don’t want to get into your behavior toward Mark tonight, do we?” She looked at him and could feel her smile fade. His eyes sparked with challenge, but then he grinned and touched her face.
“No. I guess not. That’s a whole other can of peas.” He lowered his head and thank God he kissed her. She couldn’t remember feeling so much at someone’s mercy, let alone a man’s.
They arrived at her house and Barry was fascinated with the views, so they lingered outside on the deck. Roxanne shivered and snuggled her coat around her more tightly to ward off the cold. At least that’s what she told herself. While Barry breathed in the salty crisp ocean air and looked out to see if he could spot the distant Boston skyline, Roxanne gazed upward at the stars. It was a clear night.
The breathtaking panorama of the churning ocean didn’t hold any fascination for her these days. She turned away from the jagged rocks below, with a shiver. Barry moved to wrap his arms around her from behind.
“This is beautiful. But then everything about you is.”
“And you said you weren’t charming.” Roxanne turned in his arms to face him and she wrapped her arms around his middle looking up into his face and those fiery blue eyes. He hugged her closer, moving his face closer to hers until she could feel the warmth of his breath.
“You feel so good. Maybe we should go inside?” His voice was low and husky. He nuzzled his head in her hair, holding her tighter yet. The relentless intensity of
her pounding heart prevented her from saying anything in response. Instead, she pulled back from his embrace and led him to the door, moving with more confidence than she felt, away from the scene of the crime.
Inside, Barry barely noticed his surroundings. He followed Roxanne as she headed up the stairs, shedding her coat and hanging it over the banister. After opening the double doors to her room, she turned. He stood, his own coat gone.
“So this is the den of iniquity?” Barry paced around the room, trying to dispel the air of tension. He forced himself to take notice, not liking the loss of control he felt with the intensity. Maybe it was being on her turf that bothered him. He mentally shrugged it off. Was he ready to jump in bed with this woman again? Didn’t he vow not to repeat his impulsive move the last time they had parted? Roxanne looked at him steadily, but she only nodded her head. He was a fool if he thought he could escape her. He'd be lucky to make it to his next game in one piece. He felt her watching him like a jungle cat lying in wait. He steeled himself for the attack, not because he wouldn’t surrender, but because he’d found playing their game to be as exciting as the end result.
After a long pause at the window where he was compelled to look out over the sea once more, he lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.
“Why don’t you have a seat with me?” He patted the chair next to him, looking over his shoulder at her. She stood with her arms crossed now and a seductive pout formed on her face. He figured she’d play his game and was plotting her strategy this very second. The key was to try and not do anything she expected. “Can a guy get a brandy around here, or is the bar closed?” he asked as she sat in the chair next to him.
“Losing your courage, big man?”
His head snapped up in surprise. Only her smile took some of the bite off the remark. But he was up to the challenge.
Playing the Game Page 9
