“I thought you were leaving.”
Her toes curled as she felt his eyes move over her bare legs and feet. The ball whizzed through the air and she caught it from him easily.
She crossover-dribbled the ball, keeping her feet planted on the cold wood floor, as she tried to anticipate his next move.
“I never back away from a challenge,” she said, dribbling the ball.
For a moment the only sound in the room was the twang-twang of the basketball bouncing against the floor.
Suddenly, Derek closed the gap between them. But she quickly pivoted out of his reach.
“And I don’t play ball with chicks in skirts. It’s too...” He shook his head and swallowed hard. “Distracting.”
She grinned. “You mean, it’s too easy to lose!”
“Me lose to a girl?” He put his hands on his hips and his sonorous laugh echoed throughout the court. “Are you kidding me?”
She kept a straight face and dribbled the ball until his laughter finally died away.
“You ever play before?” he asked. The wariness in his voice bolstered her false bravado.
She hesitated for a few seconds, feeling a strong urge to just hand over the ball and walk away from him, from the task she was hired to do. What was she thinking going head-to-head in anything, let alone basketball, with one of the NBA’s top forwards?
She huffed out a breath. “I think you know the answer to that,” she chided.
He raised a brow, flexed his fingers. “You got one shot off me, you won’t get another.”
“We’ll see about that,” she countered, although by the look on his face, she knew he was telling the truth. He wasn’t going to go easy on her.
“Half court press,” she said, circling around him. “First one to hit five baskets wins.”
He clapped his hands together, as if he’d already won. “Game on! You might as well start packing up that Gucci bag and crying for your mama.”
My what? she thought, and before she knew what was happening, Derek smacked the ball out of her hand. A few seconds later he made a humongous, swinging-on-the-edge-of-the-net dunk and landed on both feet. Grabbing the ball, he passed it to her as she caught up to meet him.
Her bare feet pounded the floor as she rounded him and then faked him out for a not-so-easy layup.
“One–one. Nice job,” he commented.
The ball bounced once on the floor and Derek grabbed it. She edged toward him until they were practically toe-to-toe and attempted to steal the ball, but he held it high over his head.
“No traveling!” she shouted, reaching for it, knowing there was no way she could grab it. At five feet six inches, she was clearly outmatched. But she kept stretching for it anyway and felt her shirt pull out from the waistband of her skirt. But she didn’t care. Now was not the time for fashion.
She had to win.
If not for him, for herself. To prove that she could compete again and not run away or give up.
He faked her out and dribbled toward the three-point line, where he immediately shot the ball. Natalie watched it arc over her head and drop through the net without kicking up a breeze, which would have been welcome in the hot air.
Derek cupped his hands around his mouth. “He shoots! He scores!” he shouted.
“Don’t rub it in,” she complained as she trotted over to pick up the ball. “Didn’t your mother tell you that was bad sportsmanship?”
“She never had to,” he answered.
She dribbled the ball downcourt.
“Why is that?” she called back to him.
His sneakers screeched to a halt as he caught up to her.
“Because I never lost,” he replied with a toothy grin.
She shot him a hard pass. “You’re impossible!”
“And you’re losing,” he taunted, and then groaned when she immediately stole the ball again.
She pivoted just under the basket. “Not for long,” she said, and sprung for the layup. But it was nothing but rim, and the ball ended back in Derek’s palms.
“You were saying?” he teased. She scowled and stuck out her tongue at him.
Derek broke the tension with some fancy footwork and dribbling á la Harlem Globetrotters that left her doubled over with laughter. He was so charming and playful that she almost forgot she was supposed to be competing against him—a dangerous combination.
In the middle of his antics, she saw an opportunity to smack the ball out of his hands and she did.
Changing direction, she sprinted back toward the basket and grit out a mental prayer. “Please let this one go in, please let this one go in.” She was amazed when the ball sailed through, barely moving the net.
“I’m impressed,” said Derek, grabbing the ball after the first bounce. “Luck is definitely with the lady tonight. It’s all tied up now and it’s anyone’s game. You ready?”
Beads of sweat tickled the base of her spine. “I’m always ready,” she huffed delicately, trying to catch her breath.
He circled around her, dribbling the ball, slow and easy. “Well. Just so you think you’re not just another pretty face who thinks she’s got game...”
He passed her the ball, moved behind her and put his arm around her waist.
“Let’s see how you play defense,” he challenged.
Derek’s powerful body moved with hers in a heated battle for possession of the ball. She bit her lip against the desire that stole her breath away.
Inhaling deeply, she bent her legs to gain more traction, but his iron-hard thighs swished against her backside, throwing her off balance, and she struggled to maintain control of the ball and her senses. Finally she broke away and went east–west, weaving around him.
A second later his hands caught her around the waist and he vaulted her up toward the basket. She slammed the ball into the net, and the next thing she knew her feet were on the ground, and her heart was in her throat.
He spun her around to face him, but he didn’t let go of her.
“You win.”
His voice, low and sweet, tented a cloak of intimacy around them, as if she’d just conquered him in the bedroom rather than on the basketball court.
She gulped back a cry of indignation under his mesmerizing gaze. “B-but you helped me make the basket,” she protested.
His gray eyes lit up with an I-play-for-keeps kind of fire.
“We all need a lift now and then. Don’t you agree?”
Natalie nodded, still a little shocked at how comfortable she’d felt in Derek’s arms. He was her client, so officially he was off-limits. That was a good thing. She never let her heart get in the way of her profession, and she wouldn’t start now.
She met his eyes, hoping he couldn’t see the desire that remained in her own. “Um. The game is over. You can let me go now.”
He dropped his hands, reluctantly it seemed, and led her to a row of courtside seats.
“How’d you learn to play ball like that?” he said, tossing her a towel before grabbing one for himself.
She caught it with one hand. “Thanks. It’s a long story,” she murmured and sat, her heart racing.
He wiped the sweat from his face. “I’d like to hear it sometime.”
The smile on his full lips invited her fantasies, and she tried not to stare at his wet, glistening body, so deep and dark with angles and planes. He was all muscle and bone and length.
She knew she could spend a night, or better yet, a lifetime exploring and never satiate her need to discover him. With effort, she tore her eyes away and checked her watch.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Derek turned and spread his arms wide. “Why not? Look at me, I’m an open book.”
Her face warmed under his wat
chful eyes, beckoning her lips to smile in response. She longed to talk to someone about other things besides goal-setting and efficient and organized living.
She had a few close girlfriends, but she rarely confided in them. Since she was a life coach and a former psychologist, they naturally expected her to have all the answers to life’s toughest questions. They didn’t realize that she struggled to make sense of things, too.
While Derek seemed sincere, she couldn’t allow herself to get hurt. Although she’d taken a huge risk and played an innocent game of basketball with him, her heart and her bed were out of bounds.
“I doubt that,” Natalie said. She walked back over to the place where she’d left her stuff lying in a heap.
Derek followed her and she felt his eyes on her as she bent to zip up her stiletto boots, ignoring the outstretched arm he offered to help her balance. She slipped on her now-wrinkled suit coat and dropped her panty hose into her purse.
He touched her arm, leaving it pulsating with heat in the wake of his touch. “But what about the rules of engagement?”
Her heart raced anew and she was unnerved that he’d remembered, let alone repeated, something she’d said earlier.
She clutched at her belongings, glad to have something to hold on to. “I’ll meet you at your house at 8:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow.”
He nodded. “It’s a date.”
She didn’t respond. Unconsciously she just wanted to savor the sound of his voice, tantalizing her imagination, hinting at promise and pleasure. In his eyes, she saw unmitigated need and unyielding desire.
As she turned and walked off the practice court, only one thing was on her mind. Could he possibly feel those emotions for her? Or had she only seen herself reflected in his gray eyes?
Chapter 2
The next morning, the taxi taking Natalie to Derek’s Brooklyn apartment snaked through rush-hour traffic. Frustrated drivers honked horns and shouted out car windows. Yet she was so focused on the task before her that she barely heard any of it.
Although her initial research was complete and all of the necessary arrangements had been made, being efficient didn’t erase the knots in her stomach. Convincing Derek to go along with her plan wouldn’t be easy, but she knew it was the only way to help him get his life back on track.
When they finally arrived, her mouth fell open. Derek was sitting on the front stoop reading a newspaper. Waiting for her.
She paid her fare, stepped out of the taxi and slammed the door, half wishing she could jump back in and go home.
He looked up and folded the paper. “You’re late,” he chided.
His eyes tumbled over her body and her face flushed hot with embarrassment. She was never late for a client meeting or anything else for that matter.
She gulped in a breath. “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
He crossed his arms on his knees, a slight smile upon his lips. “That depends on the excuse.”
She hesitated. The “I got caught in traffic” line wouldn’t fly, especially since she was supposed to be a pro at managing time. But she couldn’t tell him the entire truth, either.
How she’d tossed and turned all night, remembering the feel of his massive body brushing against hers during their playful game of one-on-one. The sensual instant replay had eventually lulled her to sleep.
Yet when she’d woken up, bleary-eyed and aroused, she’d almost called Derek’s manager to tell him to find someone else. All because of a six-letter word that starts with D and ends with heartbreak:
Desire.
Muscles, hard and lean, twisted out of his sleeves. His eyes caught her looking and his smile widened.
“Well?”
Her face heated again. Keep your mind on the mission, not on his body.
“I overslept,” she blurted. That was the truth, although she still couldn’t quite believe it herself. She never slept late, not even on holidays. There was nothing, or no one, to keep her in bed past 5:00 a.m.
Derek tossed the paper aside. “I’m not surprised.”
“Excuse me?” she said, trying not to sound offended.
He leaned back on one elbow. “Playing basketball in bare feet had to be tough.”
His eyes rambled over her shoulders, down her turquoise sundress and settled on her legs.
He whistled low. “But, girl, you’ve definitely got game.”
The exposed areas of her skin tingled as she stared at him with a mix of pleasure and astonishment.
Derek had every right to be angry, especially after her little speech about time management and organization. Yet he was clearly flirting with her.
Why?
More troubling was the fact that she enjoyed it—a dangerous way to feel. She decided it was best to ignore his comment, and her growing attraction to him.
“Nevertheless, it’s unacceptable and—”
“Unpredictable.” He cut her off and flashed a brilliant smile. “I like it.”
She choked back a laugh. As someone who alphabetized every spice and canned good in her kitchen, she was the least unpredictable person on the planet. It was just another indication that he wasn’t her type. Not that she cared, she reminded herself.
“Just do me a favor,” he continued. “The next time you’re going to be late, at least give me a call.”
He was right. “I’m sorry,” she admitted. “But I just assumed you’d be sleeping and that I’d have to get you out of bed when I got here.”
He chuckled and held up his hands. “Whoa, not on the first date!”
She blew out a breath and put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Lansing, this is not a date, and quite frankly, I don’t think I need to remind you why I’m here.”
Derek’s amused expression turned grim. “You’re right.”
He tucked the newspaper under his arm, stood and opened the door.
She stepped inside and he led her to a freight elevator that had a huge basketball with the number seventeen painted on it.
“A housewarming gift from my neighbor,” he said, punching in a code. His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. “He’s an artist. I guess he thought I’d forget my own number.”
She stifled a laugh as the doors opened with a monstrous squeal. After they were both inside, Derek slid the heavy metal gate closed with ease.
The elevator began its slow, creaky ascent. Silence stretched between them. Yet something crackled, too.
Neither understood nor acknowledged it, but it was still there, manifested in the way he leaned against the wall, inviting her eyes to take in the length of his legs and her hands to take hold of the brute strength she knew lay beneath the loose-fitting navy-blue athletic pants. It dared her nose to inhale deeply the hint of spicy cologne in the air, knowing it would make her hunger even more for the man who wore it.
Time stood still. Suspended by that delicious bubble of heat neither hoped would break.
Suddenly the elevator lurched to a stop and Natalie lost her balance. She grabbed hold of Derek’s outstretched hand and he pulled her into his arms where she landed with her cheek nestled against the tight fabric of his T-shirt. In his tight embrace, her heart flipped so loudly in her chest she was sure he could hear and feel it.
“This elevator has a mind of its own,” he explained. “I should have warned you. Are you okay?”
She looked up, touched by the concern in his gray eyes. “Yes, I’m just a little startled, that’s all.”
He nodded. “Still, it needs to be fixed.” His full lips parted into a warm smile. “But today I’m kind of glad it wasn’t.”
Was it her imagination or did his embrace get even tighter?
He seemed to be waiting for her to respond and she wanted to say, “Me, too,” but she remained silent. Yet there was no mistaking the rush of
disappointment she felt when he released her and pulled open the gate.
He bowed slightly and Natalie giggled. “Come on in. I’ll make it up to you with a cup of my famous café au lait.”
“Ooh-la-la,” she joked, her footsteps echoing on the shiny hardwood floor as she followed him.
His converted warehouse apartment was immense. Floor-to-ceiling windows spanned one side of the room, bathing it in gorgeous sunlight. The furniture consisted of a huge flat-screen television, a large leather sectional, a couple of end tables and some modern lamps that, due to all the natural light, probably only got used at night or on rainy days.
Derek tossed the paper onto the sparkling granite countertop and pulled out a high-backed chair.
“Have a seat.”
She slipped her purse strap around the back. “Thanks.” Derek remained by her side until she was seated, which she thought was a nice gesture. Yet, when he moved to the other side of the counter, she was oddly relieved. Being in his arms those few minutes had spurned a mini whirlpool of desire within her and she knew that she couldn’t do anything about it.
She watched him prepare the coffee to distract herself. As he poured the milk into the steamer, his movements were unhurried, graceful, and she began to relax.
It was almost as though he was taking care of her because he felt a need to, rather than simply being hospitable. The feeling was comfortable and she leaned back and exhaled lightly, wondering what it would be like to sit here with him every morning, watching him making coffee, after a night of lovemaking.
His eye caught hers and he winked. It was almost as if he could read her mind and a blush spread over her cheeks.
Natalie glanced around. “Your apartment is nice.” She hesitated. “Did you just move in?”
Derek shook his head, his voice slightly raised over the sounds of the coffee machine. “No, I’ve been living here since I signed with the Skylarks three years ago.”
He poured two mugs of coffee, then topped both off with the steamed milk. When he set one mug down, her nostrils twitched as she lightly inhaled the rich aroma.
Stealing Kisses Page 2
