by Jamie Wesley
“Don’t worry about it,” a woman said from behind her. “It was hot!” She held out her hand. “I’m Michelle Banks, by the way. We met at casino night. Victor Banks is my husband.”
“I remember. It’s nice to see you again.” Caitlin shook Michelle’s hand. Michelle looked to be about Caitlin’s age. Pretty with shoulder-length black hair. Victor Banks was a backup forward on the team. He’d been a member of the team for the past two years, if she remembered correctly. Solid performer. Nothing fancy, but he could be counted on to grab a few rebounds and be at the right spot at the right time on the court.
Michelle tapped the shoulder of the older woman. “This is Stacy Whitmore, Dante Whitmore’s mother.”
“I come to every game,” Stacy said proudly. She peered around Caitlin’s shoulder. “Who’s that? Surely you’re not bold enough to bring a date to your boyfriend’s game.”
Caitlin laughed. “No, this is my brother Christian.”
He waved. “Nice to meet you, ladies.”
“Oh, it’s our pleasure, believe me,” Stacy said. “I might be old enough to be your mother, but I can still appreciate a fine man. Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Too hard.”
Christian tilted his cup toward her in acknowledgment. “Good to know.”
“You’re cute, honey. You look like someone. Can’t put my finger on who though.”
Caitlin stilled. She’d always wondered how Christian had managed to top six feet when she and their mother were so petite. Mack had four or five inches on him and was probably thirty or forty pounds heavier, but now that she knew about their relationship, it was easy to see Mack in Christian in the curve of his jaw and shape of his nose.
“You think so?” Christian said. “Maybe I’m the man of your dreams?”
Caitlin snorted and smacked him on the arm. “Calm down, Romeo.”
“Now that we’ve got the niceties out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff,” Michelle said. “How did you meet Brady?”
Stacy tapped Caitlin on the leg. “No, let’s be really real. Tell us what a great kisser he is. With lots and lots of detail.”
Caitlin sensed no malice in their questions, only run-of-the-mill nosiness. If the situation were reversed, she’d be just as curious. “Okay, here’s the deal.” She leaned closer to Michelle. “Brady is…a great kisser. And that’s all you’re going to get out of me.”
Stacy joined Michelle in booing.
Caitlin laughed.
“I like you,” Michelle said. “You know how to have fun. Guess that explains why he doesn’t hang out with the guys.”
Caitlin worked to keep the surprise off her face. Brady never hung out with his new teammates? Is that why he and Maguire were at each other’s throats at the casino night?
“Oh, hush,” Stacy said. “Sounds romantic to me.”
“Let me tell you this in case you don’t know, but that was the hottest kiss I’ve seen in a long time,” Michelle said.
Caitlin struggled not to fidget. The kiss had been devastating. An impulse on her part that had landed her in an untenable situation, but she still couldn’t muster any regret for her actions. It had been spectacular. Never to be repeated again, but amazing all the same. When she did find someone suitable to date, the bar had been raised, oh, about twenty stories.
A new voice joined the conversation. “I heard Hudson was about to get engaged to his girlfriend in New York.”
Caitlin twisted her body toward the aisle where a stunning woman in five-inch gold heels, skinny jeans, and the best weave Caitlin had ever seen stood with a smirk on her expertly made-up face. Behind her stood two more women cut from the same mold.
Girlfriend? Engaged? The struggle was real to keep the shock off her face this time. She could only hope she’d succeeded. It was the surprise of the announcement, not the thought that he’d almost belonged to someone else that sent her heart racing, of course.
“Don’t you think it’s too early to start with the silliness, Patrice?” Michelle asked, her tone impatient. “The game hasn’t even started.”
Patrice and her mini-mes swanned into the empty seats next to Caitlin. Lord, why hadn’t she agreed to sit in a suite? Because she’d thought she’d get more bang for her buck if she was out here. If she had one more big, bright idea, she was going to figure out a way to kick herself in the shin.
Patrice pasted a bright smile on her face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. I assumed the love of Hudson’s life would know all about his past. I mean you wouldn’t want to be his rebound, would you?” Her lips pouted in the saddest attempt at an empathetic look Caitlin had ever seen in her life.
Puh-lease.
“Of course not,” Caitlin said brightly, her composure regained. “Brady and I share everything, which is why I know about his girlfriend—excuse me, ex-girlfriend—in New York. You say he was about to propose. Well, he didn’t, and that’s all that matters.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” Caitlin tilted her head to the side. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”
“I’m Patrice Houston. Soon to be Maguire.” She waved her left hand, showing off a blinding rock.
Oh, great. Lance Maguire’s other half. Explained the attitude. No telling what Lance had been saying about Brady to her. “Nice to meet you,” she said as politely as she could.
The bright lights in the arena shut off and were replaced by the sequence of flashing spotlights used to introduce the starting lineup. Loud, thumping music filled the air. A video of the players urging the crowd to stand and get loud played on the Jumbotron.
“From USC, in his eleventh year, Brady Hudson!” the public address announcer yelled.
The crowd roared. He walked down the line the bench players formed, high-fiving his teammates. As befitting her role as fake girlfriend, Caitlin screamed along with the crowd. As the most tenured player on the team and the Stampede’s annual All-Star, Lance Maguire was the last player introduced. He played to the crowd, cupping his ear to get them to scream louder.
The game started a few minutes later. Caitlin was immediately drawn into the action. “Come on, ref! That wasn’t a block,” she yelled when Brady was called for a foul.
Michelle looked at her with respect. “You know your stuff. I see why Brady likes you even if…”
“Even if what?”
Michelle glanced around, clearly checking to make sure no one was paying them any attention. She leaned in. “Even if I’m kind of surprised that Brady got involved so quickly. Oh, not because of you. Based on what my husband and a few of the other players say, he’s so aloof. The guys aren’t sure what his deal is. Is he riding the year out to get to free agency and get a contract? Only interested in padding his stats?”
Caitlin took a sip of her drink to give herself a moment to gather her thoughts. “I don’t know why he’s acting that way.” And wasn’t that the truth? How well did she really know Brady? “All I can say is that’s not the person I know. He’s warm and funny. I can say that he cares. A lot. And not about padding his stats. He was devastated about the loss the other night. The part he played in it. He wants the team to win and to get better. He’s dedicated himself to that.”
Michelle nodded. “Everyone thought they’d have a better record at this point than they do. It’s early in the season, but winning at the five-hundred level isn’t going to get them into the playoffs let alone win a championship. Plus, when Brady was traded here, it threw a lot of guys off. Got them wondering if they were next on the chopping block. Fun times in Stampedeland, let me tell you.”
Caitlin grimaced. “Sounds like it.”
She turned her attention back to the court in time to see Brady steal the ball from the opposing point guard, outrun two defenders chasing him down the court, and slam the ball through the hoop. She leaped out of her seat and pumped her fist. “Yeah!”
She watched the rest of the game, enthralled. It was clear Brady was on a mission. Determined to make up for his mis
take from the last game, maybe? Whatever the case, he was everywhere at once. She almost pitied his opponents. The crowd gasped as one when he made an incredible low, bouncing pass between two Jazz players, who never saw it coming. Tilly caught the ball underneath the basket and dunked it home, sending the Stampede fans into rapturous cheers.
After the game, at Michelle’s urging, she and Christian went down into the tunnel to wait for Brady. “All the wives do it,” Michelle said. “We can’t go into the locker room, but we can wait until they come out. They’ll be in a good mood.”
The Stampede had ended their two-game losing streak, blowing out the Jazz 100-84.
“Your man, especially,” Michelle added.
Brady had scored twenty-three points and dished out eleven assists, playing one of his best games as a member of the Stampede.
But her man? No, he wasn’t. And that was as it should be.
The corridor was packed with game officials and everyone else biding their time until the players came out. After Michelle excused herself to take a phone call, Caitlin settled against the wall next to Christian to wait. With showers, media interviews, and whatever else players did after a game, it might be a while.
“Ms. Monroe, I was hoping to see you tonight!” Dale Templeton came striding down the hall, beaming.
Curious gazes swung between her and the exuberant team owner, but she wouldn’t wilt underneath the scrutiny. She’d gotten herself into this mess, after all. “Hi, Mr. Templeton,” she said with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“I can see why you and Brady get along. Both stubborn and refuse to call me by the name I told you to.” He enveloped her in a hug, surprising the crap out of her. She went along for the ride because, well, she didn’t have any other choice. The scents of some piney cologne and expensive silk filled her nose. She met the suspicious eyes of his daughter over his shoulder.
He stepped back and grinned at her. “How long have you been waiting?”
“Not long.”
“Too long. A man should never let a beautiful woman wait.”
Since Caitlin didn’t think Brady had any idea she was out here, she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
“Give me a second. I have something I want to discuss with both of you.”
He did? “Uh…”
But he was already gone, slipping inside the locker room, leaving her alone with Elise, who was openly eyeing her and Christian. Great. She forced herself to smile. “Elise, this is my brother, Christian.”
“Hello,” she said in that cool voice of hers.
“Nice to meet you,” Christian returned politely.
“You, too.” Her phone rang. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” She put the phone to her ear and strode away. Christian turned to Caitlin, his eyebrows raised. She shrugged.
The door to the locker room swung open. Dale clapped his hands. “Everyone, can you join us inside? The players are decent.”
Caitlin wasn’t sure she wanted to go into the inner sanctum of the locker room. She sure as hell didn’t belong there. But left with no choice, she filed in with the other family members, friends, and team employees.
Along with the players, the room was filled with reporters and a few cameramen from the local news channels. In the middle of the carpeted floor, a circular Stampede logo dominated. She zeroed in on her pretend boyfriend, who was indeed dressed. The thought of Brady Hudson with only a towel wrapped around his waist to protect his modesty threatened to warp all her brain cells. Good thing she hadn’t walked in on that. She would’ve slipped in a puddle of drool. Not that the blue sweater he wore helped her predicament much. The wool contoured to his broad shoulders, wide chest, and biceps. The man was built.
His brow lifted in query. She smoothed her features the best she could. Lord only knew what he’d read on her face. Good old-fashioned lust, probably.
The other friends and family went to stand next to their loved ones, so she did the same. Christian, as was his way, hung back, to take in the scene. “Hey, Brady,” she said. “Good game.”
His lips lifted in a brief smile. “Thanks. Winning was the only option tonight.”
“Yeah, I gathered that based on the way you played like a man possessed.” She moved in closer and whispered, “Do you know what’s going on?”
His large hand landed at the small of her back, sending a flash of heat radiating up her back. He leaned down, his breath caressing her ear, the sound of his deep voice sliding through her like melted chocolate. “Hey back. Not a clue.”
They turned their attention to the middle of the room where Dale stood on the logo. Obviously used to being the center of attention, he practically preened. “As you all know, there is nothing I value more than family. I loved my wife with all my heart before she passed away. My daughter is an important part of the Stampede family, as are all of our employees from the ball boys to the general manager. That includes the players. A couple of weeks ago, we acquired the best point guard in the league. And because he quickly realized there is no woman quite like a Dallas woman, he scooped up Caitlin, who I’ve chatted with a few times. I’m a great judge of character and know Brady chose well.”
All those eyes that had been trained on Dale were now centered directly on Caitlin and Brady. His hand tensed against her back. Where was Dale going with this? The sinking feeling in her stomach told her she wouldn’t be thrilled when he was done with his speech.
Dale clasped his hands together, an entirely-too-pleased-with-himself gleam entering his eyes. “So what better way to welcome Brady and Caitlin to the Stampede family than by including them in the annual team cookbook? As you all know, it’s my pet project. My restaurants and food were my passion before I bought the Stampede, and I love sharing that passion with our fans. Where’s Nick? Nick is the team’s official photographer,” he said to Caitlin. “Oh, there he is.” He called out the man’s name and waved him over. The photographer carried an intimidating, professional-looking camera in his hand. “Now kiss Caitlin like you mean it, Brady. We need a shot for the cookbook. Nick’s the best in the business. He can do better than some camera phone photo.”
The urge to bolt slammed into her with the force of a tornado. Not that she could since she was finding the process of breathing to be almost beyond her abilities at the moment. Forget about actually moving. All those nightmares she had about being the center of attention? They were coming true at this very moment. She wasn’t asleep. She was very much awake. And very much the center of attention. She estimated there were about seventy-five people in the room, which meant there were one hundred and fifty eyes on her.
Did Dale really expect them to reenact Seven Minutes in Heaven in the middle of this room? Judging by the expectant look on his face, the answer was a resounding yes.
Stiffly, her muscles protesting the entire way, she turned and looked up into the eyes of the man she’d dragged into this fiasco with her. Thankfully, she didn’t detect imminent murder in his eyes. His face was blank. Not great, but better than murder, she supposed. He didn’t speak, curling a strong arm around her waist and drawing her closer. He lowered his head. Her eyes fluttered closed as she rose on her toes to meet him halfway. The soft press of his sculpted mouth against hers didn’t last long. A second at the most. It didn’t matter. The riot of sensation that rampaged through her system attested to that. Her lips tingled, begging for more.
No. She stepped back out of his hold and forced her lips upward. “There you go, Mr. Templeton.”
He harrumphed. “You call that a kiss? I know you can do better than that. We all do. We saw the picture.”
Had she said this was getting out of control? Now this was getting out of control.
“You call that a kiss, Hudson? My dog gives better kisses than that,” Victor called out.
“You need lessons, man? I’d be happy to step in with your lady and show you how it’s done,” Tilly taunted.
Brady glared. “Like hell.” He hau
led Caitlin against his chest and laid one on her. A full assault that bombarded all her senses. His hard body plastered against hers. The taste of him, slightly minty, the way he used his lips and tongue to entice, then demand a response from her enthralled her. Her hands landed on his arms, and she held on to enjoy the ride. His scent, so delicious, so Brady, wrapped around her. The kiss was thorough. Better than she remembered. She’d tried to tell herself that the kiss on the bench wasn’t as great as she’d thought it was. She’d been right. It was better.
Loud cheers finally penetrated her consciousness. Slowly, Brady ended the embrace. By the skin of her teeth, she held back the whimper that threatened to spill from her lips. She gulped in oxygen. Brady’s eyes were no longer blank. The hunger for more was easy for her to read. Especially because she felt the same way. Although the kiss was everything she could have wanted, she wanted more. Everything he had to offer. And that was the most dangerous thought of all. She shouldn’t want more. Couldn’t want more. It would end in disaster—especially since she was using this fake relationship to get closer to his coach.
Dale tapped her on the arm, giving her an excuse to turn away from the scorching look in Brady’s eyes. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
“Show’s over, Dale,” someone called out, walking over to join them. Mack. How had she missed his presence? Probably because she’d been so caught up in Brady she hadn’t thought to look for him when she’d entered the room. Not good. He was supposed to be her priority, not Brady. “I’m sure you got what you needed,” Mack said to Nick.
The photographer tapped his camera. “Believe me, I did. Ten times over.”
Mack scanned the room. “I’ll see everyone tomorrow.” In other words—dismissed. Someone called Mack’s name, and he headed in that direction before she could gather her thoughts and talk to him.
Brady turned back to his locker. Awkwardness filled her pores. What was she supposed to do now? At least the other people in the room were returning to their own conversations and had stopped staring at them.
