Fast Break

by Regina Hart

  Julian returned to his dinner. “The Monarchs have an impressive past.”

  DeMarcus selected a juicy chunk of curried chicken. “You’ve got Pop on a roll, talking about one of his favorite subjects.”

  “Your father and I have that in common. Basketball is one of my favorite topics, too, especially the Monarchs.” Jaclyn filled her fork with couscous. “We have ten players and three coaches in the NBA Hall of Fame, but we’ve never won a championship.”

  DeMarcus shrugged. “A championship would be nice, but not everyone can achieve it.”

  “So speaks the three-time MVP who has two championship rings.” Jaclyn’s smile teased him.

  DeMarcus winked at her. “There are thirty teams playing for one ring. Those are tough odds.”

  Jaclyn nodded. “Yet teams like the Chicago Bulls and the Los Angeles Lakers have multiple rings from back-to-back titles.”

  DeMarcus gestured toward her. “You have a championship ring of your own from your years in the WNBA.” And still she’d retired. Why?

  Jaclyn sighed. “I want the Monarchs to bring home the ring.”

  Julian gestured toward her with a forkful of chickpeas. “Even without a championship, the Monarchs have a storied history of a team and a community. As the team grew, so did the community because of the money the franchise brought in.”

  DeMarcus swallowed a mouthful of couscous. “You can’t live in the past. You have to build for the future.”

  Julian shook his head. “Young people don’t understand that, if you don’t know your past, you can’t build a future.”

  Jaclyn looked to DeMarcus. “There’s been a connection—a bond—between the Monarchs and this community for more than half a century.”

  Julian grinned. “Yes, indeed. A lot of the players—like Lenny Smith, Willie Jones and Bobby Miller—grew up in the neighborhood, went to school here, stayed to play here, raised families here. They were our neighbors. They made the community feel like the team was theirs.”

  DeMarcus stared at his dinner plate. The Waves had drafted him after college. Should he have tried to be traded to the Monarchs? He would have been closer to his parents. He looked up and saw the concern in Jaclyn’s cinnamon eyes. He shifted his gaze away.

  Jaclyn returned her attention to his father. “You’ve followed the Monarchs for a long time.”

  “Yes, indeed. Since I could turn on the radio.” Julian pointed his fork toward Jaclyn. “The Monarchs will rebuild its glory days.”

  Jaclyn arched a brow at DeMarcus. “To do that, we’ll need a coach who knows what it takes to be a champion.” Her eyes twinkled as she switched her gaze to his father. “You must have been devastated when the Monarchs’ conference rival drafted your only child.”

  Julian winked at her. “There were pros and cons. Of course you always want your child to succeed. But when the Miami Waves played the Brooklyn Monarchs, no matter who won, I went home happy.”

  Jaclyn laughed. “I like your style, Julian.”

  His father continued. “Marc’s mother wanted him to play for the home team, though. But everything happens for a reason. Marc fit in well with the Waves. He had good chemistry with the other starters.”

  DeMarcus swallowed more iced tea. “Which resulted in the team earning those two championship rings you mentioned.”

  Jaclyn turned again to his father. “You must have been excited when Marc was offered the head coach position for the Monarchs.”

  Julian held DeMarcus’s eyes. “I’ve lost track of the number of times my son has made me proud. Two championship rings, three MVP trophies, Olympic gold. The day he learned to ride a two-wheeler.” He turned to Jaclyn. “Should I mention the day he was potty trained?”

  DeMarcus closed his eyes and raised his voice to be heard above Jaclyn’s surprised laughter. “Please don’t, Pop.”

  Julian inclined his head. “We raised Marc to make his own decisions. He’s shown good judgment so far.”

  DeMarcus dropped his gaze to the table. As always, he was humbled by his father’s faith in him.

  Jaclyn squeezed his father’s forearm. “You and your wife did an excellent job with your son. You’re right to be proud of him.” She turned to address DeMarcus. “And you’re lucky to have such good parents. As I said earlier, I was wrong to have asked for your resignation yesterday. I think you’re the coach the Monarchs need.”

  DeMarcus returned her direct stare. “You could be wrong.”

  Her hand fell away from Julian’s arm. “I know I’m not.”

  DeMarcus pressed for more. “And what about Gerry and Bert? Will you be able to prevent them from throwing away the season?”

  Jaclyn didn’t waver. “Yes, I will.”

  DeMarcus could almost believe her. “I’ll think it over.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to it.” Jaclyn pushed away from the dining table and stood to collect her dishes. “Gentlemen, thank you for dinner and your wonderful company.”

  Julian took Jaclyn’s dishes from her. “It was nice having a lady at the dinner table again.”

  DeMarcus again wondered about the effect Jaclyn’s presence had over his father. He circled the dining table and took the serving tray from her. He set it back on the table. “You’re our guest. We’ll clear the table.”

  Jaclyn’s arms dropped to her sides. “Then I’ll get my cell phone so I can call my driver.”

  “I’ll take you home.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I’d appreciate that, if you’re sure it’s not an imposition.”

  Behind her, Julian snorted. “An imposition? Taking you home gets him out of kitchen duty.”

  DeMarcus tried to look offended. “I cooked dinner.”

  Julian snorted again, then extended his right hand toward Jaclyn. “It was nice to meet you, Jackie. Good luck with the season.”

  Jaclyn took Julian’s hand. “Thank you. Hopefully, we’ll meet again.”

  DeMarcus took Jaclyn’s elbow to escort her from the dining room. “I’ll be right back, Pop.”

  DeMarcus put on his sneakers while Jaclyn called her driver. He then collected their coats from the front closet before leading her through the back of the house to his garage. DeMarcus breathed in the chilled air that carried the faint scent of autumn leaves.

  He used a remote opener to raise the garage door. Another remote control deactivated the alarm and unlocked the doors to his black Audi sedan. DeMarcus held the front passenger door open, closing it after Jaclyn had settled into the seat. He rounded the car and slipped behind the wheel. “Where to?”

  He recognized the street Jaclyn mentioned. It was only a few blocks away in their Park Slope neighborhood. DeMarcus fastened his seat belt and waited while Jaclyn did the same before he drove the car out of the garage and into the heavy nighttime traffic.

  Jaclyn’s soft, whiskey voice broke the pensive silence. “Your father is charming. I enjoyed the evening.”

  “So did we.” The truth of his words surprised him. His first impression of the Monarchs co-owner during his job interview hadn’t been positive; neither had his second encounter with her yesterday in his office. But she’d been a different person tonight. She’d listened to and laughed with his father. Julian had seemed happier than he’d been in a long time.

  A comfortable silence settled into the car until DeMarcus’s curiosity kicked in. “I’ve seen you play. You were good. Why did you leave basketball for law?”

  “Thank you.” Jaclyn didn’t take praise from this gold-medal Olympian and future NBA Hall of Famer lightly. She shifted in her seat to look at him. She liked the clean, strong lines of his profile—high forehead, long nose, squared chin—almost as much as she enjoyed looking into his dangerous, dark eyes. “I didn’t leave basketball. I just stopped playing professionally.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted experience in contract and employment law. I thought it would help me manage the franchise.”

  “But it’s taken you two years to claim your position
as general manager.”

  Jaclyn stared through the windshield, trying to shake off her guilt. “My grandfather had been sick for a long time. Still, losing him was hard. I thought I’d left the franchise in good hands with Gerry and Bert. I was wrong.”

  DeMarcus stopped at a red light. “Why are they trying to move the team?”

  Jaclyn felt his gaze on her. They were discussing business. Why did his attention make her want to change the subject? “Gerry and Bert don’t appreciate the historical relationship of the franchise and the community as much as my grandfather and I do.”

  “Why not?”

  Jaclyn shrugged. “Gerry didn’t grow up around the franchise. He inherited his shares from his uncle. Bert inherited his shares from his father. But he also has Tipton’s Fashionwear. My grandparents raised me after my parents and older brother were killed in a car accident.”

  “You were very young when that happened, weren’t you?”

  Why had she introduced this topic? Jaclyn’s stomach tensed. “I was three. After my grandmother died when I was eleven, my grandfather and the team were my only family.”

  The light changed. DeMarcus crossed the intersection. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “There’s never an easy time to lose a loved one.” Jaclyn glanced at him. “I’m sorry about your mother’s passing.”

  “Thank you.”

  The atmosphere in the car weighed heavy with regrets. Silence stretched before Jaclyn changed the subject. “Thank you for reconsidering your resignation.”

  There was a smile in DeMarcus’s voice. “If you could afford an experienced coach, would you have asked me to stay?”

  Jaclyn suppressed a smile. The Mighty Guinn didn’t miss a trick. “I thought you weren’t in it for the money.”

  “I’m not. But I am curious.” DeMarcus turned onto her street.

  “Frankly, if the franchise weren’t so dysfunctional, we wouldn’t need a new head coach.” Jaclyn dug her house keys from her purse.

  “True.” DeMarcus parked behind a dark blue Mercedes. He got out of the car, then came around to assist her.

  “Thank you.” Jaclyn took his hand. His palm was big, rough and warm. Had he noticed she’d held on a little too long? She climbed her front steps, enjoying the feel of his presence behind her a little too much. “You’re right. It’s more fiscally responsible to hire a promising new coach than to lure a more established one.”

  “A promising new coach.” His tone was dry as he quoted her. “Yesterday, I was the man who’d destroy the team.”

  He stopped a step below her, but Jaclyn still had to look up to meet his eyes. His broad shoulders sheltered her from her surroundings. He was strong enough for her to lean on. But would he keep her from falling? Could he? Was he the franchise’s savior or its destroyer? The evening was suddenly too quiet. “If the salary wasn’t your motivation, why did you want to coach the Monarchs?” He stayed silent so long, she considered repeating her question.

  But then he smiled. His tempting lips parted to reveal perfect white teeth. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth. “My father would get a kick out of it.” DeMarcus nodded toward her door. “You should go in. It’s getting late.”

  What didn’t he want her to know? Should she press him or shelve her curiosity for another day?

  Jaclyn unlocked her door. The lights she kept on in her entryway masked the house’s emptiness. It was a noticeable contrast from DeMarcus’s home. “Thank you again for dinner and for seeing me home. I hope to hear good news from you tomorrow.”

  His eyes creased at the corners. “Good night.”

  She entered her grandfather’s house under DeMarcus’s careful regard, locking the door behind her.

  Unease shadowed Jaclyn as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Even if DeMarcus agreed to coach the Monarchs, would she be able to keep the team in Brooklyn? And would her growing attraction to the former NBA superstar and his dimples further complicate the situation?

  DeMarcus found his father reading in the sitting room. “Are you waiting up for me?”

  Julian gave his son a skeptical look. “Why? You’re not sixteen anymore.” His father closed the hardcover novel he’d been reading. “Are you going to coach the Monarchs?”

  Trust his father to get right to the point.

  DeMarcus settled into the matching armchair. His mother’s chair. “Should I?”

  “It’s your decision.”

  DeMarcus pushed out of the soft armchair and wandered across the room. The days were getting shorter. Long, evening shadows protected the view of the neighborhood from the sitting room window. “I’m risking my reputation if the team continues to lose.”

  His father snorted. “No matter what happens, no one will take away your awards. You’ve earned them.”

  DeMarcus turned from the window, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his black warm-up pants. “Those are things. What about my image? I’ve built a name as a winner. What happens to that if I coach the team to another losing season?”

  Julian shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what other people think. At the end of the day, all that matters is what you think.”

  “But what do you think?”

  “Listen to your gut. It hasn’t failed you yet.”

  “Why won’t you give me your opinion?”

  “You aren’t sixteen anymore.”

  DeMarcus scrubbed a hand over his face. In his mind, he held the image of Jaclyn’s cinnamon eyes sparkling with the light of the street lamp outside her mansion. His shoulders tensed. “I can’t guarantee her a winning season.”

  “Did Jackie ask for a guarantee?”

  “ No.”

  “If you take the job, do your best. That’s all anyone can expect from you and all you can expect of yourself.”

  DeMarcus’s chuckle was dry. He perched on the edge of the bay window’s shelf. “I remember that lecture from my years at basketball summer camp. You and Mom gave me some version of that speech before every game.”

  Julian put the novel on the small table between the two armchairs and settled further into the overstuffed brown cushions. “The philosophy was right then, and it’s right now.”

  “But Jack needs a winning season.”

  Julian cocked his head. “That responsibility wouldn’t be just on you. It’s on the entire coaching staff, the players and the front office.”

  “That’s what I told her.” DeMarcus straightened off the window shelf. He propped his hands on his hips and studied the gleaming hardwood floor. “I can coach her team, but she has to keep Gerry and Bert out of trouble.”

  “Can she?”

  DeMarcus looked up. He couldn’t read Julian’s expression. He had a lot riding on this decision. Whatever he chose to do, he didn’t want the outcome to reflect badly on his family’s name. “I don’t know. What should I do?”

  Julian arched a brow. “If you decide to coach the Monarchs, you’ll give the team your best effort. But no one could blame you if you decide not to. The front office is in disarray.”

  “Jack called it dysfunctional.”

  “That, too.”

  “I wish I knew whether we could win.” DeMarcus sighed. “The Monarchs have taken all the losing they can stand. It’s time to put up some W’s.”

  “Sometimes winning isn’t determined on the scoreboard.”

  DeMarcus’s brows knitted. His father was doing his Star Wars Obi-Wan Kenobe impersonation again. “What does that mean?”

  “As far as the community is concerned, a winning season means the Monarchs stay in Brooklyn.”

  DeMarcus blew out a breath. “I can’t guarantee that, either.”

  Jaclyn rubbed her eyes. That annoying noise was her cell phone ringing beside her. She checked the clock on her home laptop. It was almost ten o’clock at night. Who was that? She saved the client summary she was drafting and picked up the phone. She didn’t recognize the number. Great. “Hello?”

  “Jack, it’s Marc Guinn. I
hope I’m not calling too late.”

  Her mind spun, trying to anticipate the reason for his call. Had she left something in his car? At his home, perhaps? And why was he calling her Jack? “It’s not too late. What can I do for you?”

  A heavy sigh. “I’ll coach the Monarchs, but on one condition.”

  Her grip tightened around the slim, black metal phone. “What’s that?”

  “I want a one-year contract. At the end of the year, we’ll reevaluate the situation and decide whether we want to continue the agreement.”

  Jaclyn wanted to do back flips across her cramped and cluttered home office. Instead, she swallowed a primeval scream of victory and responded with admirable calm. “That’s fair.”

  She closed the client summary—it could wait—and opened the electronic file of DeMarcus’s employment contract. “I’ll e-mail the new contract language to you in the morning. If you still agree to the terms, Gerry, Bert and I will sign it tomorrow.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll be in the office Wednesday.” His tone was resolute, determined. Sexy.

  Jaclyn hesitated. “That’s tomorrow. You don’t want to wait until you get the revised contract?”

  “I don’t have time to wait. Preseason starts in twelve days, October fourth.”

  Jaclyn wanted to pump her fist. The team had a coach committed to winning. She had an ally to help her save the franchise. Her joy had nothing to do with DeMarcus’s coal black eyes, chiseled chin or the dimples that creased his cheeks when he smiled. She wouldn’t dwell on his lack of experience. That would come. For now, she’d focus on his drive and dedication.

  “Thank you, Marc. I appreciate your giving us another chance.” Jaclyn didn’t care if DeMarcus heard her relief. He’d just given her the best news she’d had in years.

  “I can’t guarantee a winning season.”

  She recognized concern in his voice. “All I’m asking is that you try. The team can win. I know we can. We just need someone as committed to the season as we are.”

  “You’ve got that. I hate to lose. I really hate to lose, even more than I love to win.” His chuckle was self-deprecating.