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
