Fast Break (11 page)

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Authors: Regina Hart

BOOK: Fast Break
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Violet arranged her station next to Jaclyn's. “I don't know yet. Maybe coaching, either in a high school or a college. I have a business degree. I could do something with that. All I know is that I want to work with other adults.”
Jaclyn thought of Gerald and Albert, and the divided loyalties of her administrative staff. “That can be challenging.”
“Mish Jones.” The high-pitched voice came from the other side of the serving tables.
Jaclyn smiled in anticipation of seeing the little girl who'd called her name. She approached the table and looked down at the honey-blond head. “Tiffany. How are you, sweetheart?”
The three-year-old girl tugged on her mother's hand and dropped her green gaze. “Fine.” The word emerged on a shallow breath. Tiffany was still a little shy, but over the past two weeks, she'd started talking more.
Jaclyn circled the long line of serving tables to join mother and daughter in the dining area. She switched her welcome to the blond woman who was never far from Tiffany's side. “How are you, Connie?”
Constance's green gaze, identical to her daughter's, still wavered whenever someone addressed her directly. “Fine, thank you.” Her Midwestern accent identified her as a recent transplant to the Big Apple. How long had she been in Brooklyn?
Jaclyn kept the easy smile on her lips although the large bruises just beginning to fade from the young mother's fragile features made her want to cry. “Are you still comfortable at the shelter?”
Jaclyn had a vested interest in Constance's answer. The Monarchs' staff, players and administration donated time, money and materials to the Morning Glory Chapel's homeless shelter.
Constance's eyes widened. “Oh, yes. Tiff and I are very comfortable there.”
“Good.” Jaclyn turned to Tiffany, whose curious gaze shifted between Jaclyn and her mother. “I have something for you.”
She went to Violet, who was handling her station as well as Jaclyn's for the moment. Her friend found the shopping bag waiting under her station. Jaclyn returned to present the bag to Tiffany. The little girl looked to her mother.
Constance stroked her daughter's neat, blond locks. “Say thank you, honey.”
“Thank you.” Tiffany accepted the bag. Her eyes widened as she pulled out the chubby, brown teddy bear. “Wow. Thank you.” Her face glowed with joy.
Jaclyn laughed. “You're very welcome. I heard you were lonely. I thought he could keep you company for now.”
Tiffany showed the bear to her mother. “Mama, look.”
Constance blinked. Her voice shook. “I see, honey. What will you name him?”
Tiffany hugged the stuffed toy. “Bear.”
Constance chuckled. “That's fitting.” She turned to Jaclyn. “Thank you so much. She has been lonely. And scared, I think. How did you know?”
Jaclyn extended her hand and touched the other woman's thin forearm. “Father Leonard told me. I'd better get back to the line. We're serving ground turkey and vegetables tonight.” She gave Constance an encouraging smile before leaving.
Violet handed Jaclyn her apron. “You should be a mother.”
“Hopefully, one day.” Jaclyn heard the wistful note in her voice. She shook off the feeling and tied the apron around her waist. “But we're talking about you. It sounds as though you've made a major breakthrough.”
“I did. I don't feel like I'm being a bad mother because I want to go back to work.”
“You're not.” Jaclyn moved to her station and picked up her serving spoon. “Dawnie won't be neglected just because you're working.”
Violet spoke with confidence. “I'll make sure of that. If it comes to a choice between my daughter and my work, Dawnie will always come first.”
“That's the way it should be. My grandfather made me his priority, even missing away games if I had a school event that he thought he should attend.”
Violet checked her silver wristwatch. “Speaking of away games, aren't you flying to Atlanta with the team tonight?”
Experience helped Jaclyn keep up with her friend's frequent conversation bounces. She checked her own watch and her pulse leaped. The Monarchs were leaving for Atlanta in just over two hours. Would they finally win a game tomorrow night or extend their losses to zero and nine two weeks into the six-month season? “I'm already packed. I'll meet them at the airport once we're finished.”
Violet nodded. “I'm lucky that my parents and Aidan's parents are available to babysit when I go back to work. Although I'd like to put Dawnie in nursery school when she's older.”
Jaclyn stared across the room at the crowd making their way into the dining area. Men and women, young and old. Mothers with their children. “My grandfather had wanted to open a daycare center in the arena and offer it to the community. He said parents should never have to choose between their family and their job. I'd like to fulfill his wish.”
“How are the negotiations going with the Empire's owners?”
Jaclyn's grip flexed around the serving spoon. “It all comes down to what they'll make from our rent. We've got to increase our event revenue. Failing that, I'll have to figure out another way to raise the money.”
“Like what?”
Jaclyn's gaze took in the people seated at the shelter's dining table. Her neighbors. “I don't know. But saving the Monarchs is about more than protecting my grandfather's legacy. It's about serving the community. I'll do whatever it takes to keep it going. I just wish I knew what it would take.”
Jaclyn hesitated in front of DeMarcus's hotel room. They hadn't had an opportunity to talk on the plane. She wanted to know what he thought of the team's chances of beating the Hawks, especially since they were playing in Philips Arena, the Hawks' home court. Jaclyn rapped three times on the door. She looked around the pale gold walls and burgundy carpets. The hotel was clean, quiet and nice. The players should get a good night's sleep here. She hadn't been able to sleep all week. Her team needed a win.
She stared at the door. What was taking DeMarcus so long to answer? He wasn't at dinner. They'd eaten with the players earlier. He couldn't be asleep. It was just after nine
P.M.
She raised her fist to knock again. Before she could, the door swung open. DeMarcus stood in the threshold. He wore tan sweatpants and a blue Miami Waves jersey.
Jaclyn's inspection slid to his bare feet. “I'd rather my head coach didn't wear our division rival's logo.”
“Sorry.” DeMarcus's expression was as cold as it had been hot the night he'd held her against him and explored her mouth with his tongue.
Jaclyn glanced into his hotel room. For the first time it occurred to her DeMarcus might not be alone. “Am I . . . interrupting . . . anything?”
DeMarcus leaned a thickly muscled shoulder against the threshold. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you. Is this a good time?”
He hesitated. Finally, he stepped back, pulling the door wider. “Sure.”
Jaclyn moved past him. His warm, musky scent brushed her like a physical touch, stirring memories of the night they'd played basketball. She gave herself a mental shake. She needed to focus on the reason she was here and not get caught in desires that would only tangle an already-complicated situation.
Jaclyn followed the plush, royal blue carpet past the entryway, through the living space into the study area. “Ticket sales have slowed, which I'm sure we can attribute to our oh-and-eight start.” She turned to face DeMarcus. “This isn't going to bring in the crowds we need.”
DeMarcus propped his shoulder against the wall separating the entryway from the rest of the room. “You should have given the team's postgame speech after we lost to the Jazz Monday night.”
Jaclyn's eyes narrowed at the bite in his voice. “I'm sure you handled it well.” She noticed again the distance in his eyes and the tension in his stance. “How are the players? Are they tight, loose?”
“They're fine.”
“And you?”
“Fine.” DeMarcus straightened from the wall and paced past her to the French doors on the other side of the small, mahogany writing desk. He drew the curtains back to study Atlanta at night.
Jaclyn circled to keep him in sight. His movements were stiff, his expression strained. “No, you're not. What's wrong?”
DeMarcus turned to meet her eyes. “Is Rick your spy?”
She wanted to laugh. “What makes you think that?”
“I saw you running with him this morning.” He looked so serious.
Jaclyn swallowed a chuckle. In his current mood, DeMarcus wouldn't appreciate her humor. “When I wanted you to resign, you threw me out of your office.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “When Gerry wanted you to coach a losing season, you quit. If you have something to say, Marc, you'll say it. Why would I need Rick to spy on you?”
DeMarcus leaned his hips against the writing table. “He's a married man.”
Jaclyn blinked at the sudden topic shift. “I know. I went to his wedding.”
“He's a married man and an employee, but you're still having a personal relationship with him.”
Jaclyn was speechless for several heartbeats. “You think I'm having an affair with Rick?” DeMarcus didn't answer. Jaclyn felt her temper stir. “Rick and I have been friends for twelve years. He's like a brother to me.”
“That's not the way it looked to me.”
She arched a brow. “Your office is on the other side of the arena. How could you possibly have seen us?”
“I'd gone back to the parking lot before you'd started your run. I'd left something in my car.” DeMarcus stood up from the writing desk and stepped closer to Jaclyn. “I saw you put your arms around him like this.” He lifted her arms and wrapped them around his taut waist. “And Evans put his arms around you like this.” The muscles of his forearms pressed into her sides. “And then he pressed his cheek against yours like this.” DeMarcus husked the words into her ear as he pressed his cheek against hers.
Jaclyn shivered from head to toe. The light stubble on his unshaven cheek rasped against her skin. She took a deep breath to steady her trembling muscles, drawing in his soap-and-sandalwood scent. The strings of desire were reaching out to her. With an effort, she pulled back, lowering her arms from his body. “Marc.” She cleared her throat. “Rick loves Mary. He and I are just friends.”
DeMarcus drew his hand down her back, bringing her close again. “Good. Because I want to be much more.” He covered her mouth with his.
11
Sensation, sharp and sweet, shot through Jaclyn, top to bottom. His touch, his taste made her scalp tingle and her toes curl. Everywhere he touched her—back, waist, hips—burned. His taste made her blood sing. She wanted to get closer to him. She needed to have more of him. She yearned to give him more of her. The strings of desire had captured her. In truth, she'd wanted to be ensnared. She threw caution—and freedom—to the winds.
His scent clouded her mind. She moaned, anxious to feel more of him. Jaclyn rose onto her toes and arched her torso into his. She sighed when DeMarcus held her closer. She slipped her palms beneath his jersey, reveling in his smooth, warm flesh. His hard muscles flexed beneath her fingertips.
DeMarcus released her but didn't move away. “You know where this is going.”
Jaclyn opened her eyes. Cool air brushed over her heated face. She blinked. “What?”
A shadow of a smile eased DeMarcus's strained features. “I want you. But are you sure you want this?”
Jaclyn reached up, cupping the side of his squared jaw. “Very sure.”
“You're still my boss.”
Her lips curved teasingly. “Don't worry. I won't ask you to do anything kinky.”
DeMarcus remained serious. “I don't want you to regret tonight.”
“Then tell me you have condoms.”
He finally smiled, bringing out the dimples she loved. “Condoms? More than one?”
“Am I scaring you?”
DeMarcus wrapped his arms around Jaclyn and pulled her closer. Their lips touched. His caress was demanding, encompassing, consuming. He lifted his head. “I can handle it.”
Jaclyn smiled slowly. “I thought you could.”
She slid her hands over the smooth, cool material of his jersey, across his well-developed pecs and six-pack abs. His body was a fine-tuned machine, ripped and ready for action. She wanted to savor every flexing muscle. Her fingers trembled and her body warmed. DeMarcus's chest rose and fell faster as he watched her watching him. Jaclyn slipped her hands under the hem of his jersey, raising it as she slid her palms back up his torso. All that power beneath her fingertips. He'd been a champion, performing at the highest level of his sport. But he'd walked away from the game when his father had needed him. Courage and heart, an arousing combination.
DeMarcus pulled the sport shirt over his head. Jaclyn moved back and swallowed. She'd been turned on by the feel of him. She was overwhelmed at the sight of him. His dark brown skin was stretched taut over well-developed muscles—sculpted shoulders, sinewy arms, deep pecs and tight abs. The fine hair covering his chest narrowed to a tempting trail down his torso. It disappeared beneath the low waistband of his tan sweatpants. Jaclyn came forward to trace its course. She lifted her eyes to his. “You're amazing.”
DeMarcus closed the distance even further, till his warmth wrapped around her and his scent spun her thoughts. “Your turn.” He reached behind Jaclyn's back and drew down her zipper.
Jaclyn raised her arms as DeMarcus lifted the dress over her head, leaving her in only her demi-cup royal blue bra, matching thong, panty hose and stilettos. She was singed by the heat in his eyes.
“You're the amazing one.” DeMarcus slipped his arms around her.
Jaclyn felt a tug and her bra fell away. DeMarcus let the garment drop. Feather-light caresses made her nipples tremble and her breath catch. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. His hard muscles braced her back. His body heat scorched her skin. The deep muscles of his chest pressed against her breasts, causing the fine hairs on his chest to tickle her skin. Jaclyn's head tipped back as she struggled with sensory overload.
DeMarcus kissed her neck. “You're so beautiful. And you smell so good.”
“So do you. Like sandalwood and soap.” Jaclyn pressed her fingertips into the corded muscles of DeMarcus's shoulders. “You make me weak.”
It took too long to take their clothes off. DeMarcus snatched his wallet from the pocket of his sweatpants. He was torn between speed and finesse. He'd never felt that way before. DeMarcus left the garments scattered in and around the study area and lifted Jaclyn into his arms.
She gave him a startled look. “The last man who carried me to bed was my grandfather. I think I was six.”
He arched a brow. “That knowledge doesn't depress me.”
Jaclyn chuckled low in her throat. The sound was as sexy as her honey-and-whiskey voice. She could probably read a cereal box and make him hard.
DeMarcus stopped beside the hotel room's king-sized bed. He tossed his wallet onto the mattress. He lowered his right arm, freeing Jaclyn's long legs. Her right thigh brushed his arousal as she stood. He took Jaclyn into his arms again and kissed her. His tongue caressed the seam of her lips and she opened for him. DeMarcus slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting all of her flavors again—sweet and sexy, bold and bashful. He explored her as he'd done before, as he wanted to do again and for a very long time.
Jaclyn wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck. Her hands smoothed over his close-cropped hair. Her movements were soothing and seductive. DeMarcus drew a hand down her back. Her body arched into his, and he swallowed her sigh. He grasped her hips, pulling her even closer to him. She rubbed herself against him, and DeMarcus's legs began to shake.
He reached up to cup her breast. Her nipples pebbled in his palm. DeMarcus lifted Jaclyn to her toes as he lowered his mouth to her breast. He licked the trembling tip and heard her gasp. The sound shot straight to his gut. He licked her again and Jaclyn held his head steady against her. DeMarcus drew her breast into his mouth, suckling her and grazing her nipple with his tongue.
Jaclyn moaned. The sound heated his blood. She released his head and trailed her fingernails down his back. His knees shook. Jaclyn shifted her right hand to his front and took hold of his arousal. She caressed the length of him with soft, slow strokes. DeMarcus felt his hips pumping into her palm.
He lifted his knee onto the mattress, settling Jaclyn beneath him. He straddled her thighs, giving her access to him while he kissed and caressed her other breast. His senses had narrowed to know only her—her touch, her taste, her scent, her moans and the beauty of her passion as she writhed beneath him.
A shudder worked through DeMarcus when Jaclyn released him. She pressed her palms against his chest. “Let me up.”
“Why?” DeMarcus rolled over—and found himself pinned below Jaclyn. Her knees pressed into his hips. Her hands were on either side of his head.
Jaclyn buried her face in his neck. “It's my turn to taste you.” She kissed his mouth, quick and hard.
Jaclyn covered his chest with soft kisses, quick bites and long licks. Her hair tickled his chest as she traveled down his body. If she continued this all over his body, he'd never survive.
Her hands were everywhere. She stroked his rib cage, caressed his thigh and traced his chest. Jaclyn nibbled her way to his navel. He'd never considered the spot an erogenous zone, but when her hot, wet tongue laved across it, his hips rose from the mattress.
“I'm on the edge.” He gritted the words through his teeth.
“Where's your condom?”
“Under my right thigh.”
Jaclyn looked up at him, her eyebrows knitted. DeMarcus shifted to his left. She found his wallet and handed it to him. He retrieved the condom and tossed his wallet behind him in the general vicinity of the nightstand. The thump beside his bed told him he'd missed.
Jaclyn extended her hand. “Let me.”
DeMarcus hesitated. “I won't last much longer.”
Jaclyn smiled. “You can handle it.”
She tore open the packet, withdrew the condom, then tossed the empty wrapper behind him to join his wallet. She positioned the protection on his tip and smoothed it down his length. DeMarcus swallowed.
Jaclyn felt hot and damp with arousal. DeMarcus had said he wouldn't last much longer. Well, neither would she. Jaclyn moved farther up DeMarcus's thighs and positioned herself above his rock-hard erection. Her nipples puckered at the feel of him at her entrance. She held her breath as she lowered onto his length. Her breasts tightened. Her pulse quickened. DeMarcus lifted to meet her. She gasped, tipping back her head and closing her eyes. They moved in a slow and easy rhythm. Pleasure was a hot, summer breeze rolling over her skin.
DeMarcus's large palms moved with a consuming fire up her thighs, past her hips, along her waist and over her torso to cup her breasts. His fingers pulled and plucked at her nipples, intensifying her hunger. Jaclyn increased her rhythm, bringing him with her. She bent her body backward, gripping DeMarcus's thighs behind her. Her muscles were drawn tight enough to snap.
DeMarcus lowered his hands to her hips, pulling her tighter against him. He surged up, gathering her to him and flipped them over so he was on top.
Jaclyn's eyes popped open. DeMarcus covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. Jaclyn closed her eyes and held on tight. DeMarcus drove deeper inside her, harder against her. Jaclyn felt her muscles straining toward him. The pressure built within her. DeMarcus slipped his hands between them and touched her. She dug her nails into his back and screamed into his mouth. Her body shuddered through her climax, wave after wave of explosive pleasure. DeMarcus held her tighter.
As their bodies stilled, she kissed his shoulder. “I told you, you could handle it.”
Jaclyn felt his smile against her hair. She was happy and relaxed, replete with satisfaction. This step in their relationship had been worth the risk. But as she drifted into sleep, Jaclyn hoped they'd both still be smiling in the morning.
 
 
DeMarcus hunkered down. With his left hand, he collected the complimentary copy of the
Atlanta Constitution
newspaper the hotel had laid in front of his room. His right hand balanced his day's first cup of coffee. Straightening, he turned back into his room, pushing the door closed with his elbow.
The state legislature's budget battle was the day's headline news. DeMarcus wandered back to the sitting area, skimming the other front-page stories. He laid the newspaper on the table and pulled out the sports section. He sipped his coffee. What was Atlanta saying about tonight's matchup between its Hawks and his Monarchs?
Coffee spewed from his mouth as he stared at the front page photo of Jaclyn in his arms as he gave her a final kiss good night from his hotel room doorway. The article's headline read,
A ROYAL INTERLUDE
.
His skin iced over. His muscles went numb. Who had taken this photo? Why had they taken it? And what gave them the right to invade his privacy?
DeMarcus spun toward the door, bringing forward a mental image of last night—this morning. He couldn't recall seeing anyone in the hallway. He'd checked because he hadn't wanted players or other coaches, who also were staying on this floor, to see Jaclyn leave his room.
Anger exploded through him, heating the blood now rushing through his system.
“Jack.”
What would she think? How would she feel when she saw their picture in this morning's paper? He started back to his door, then stopped. He wasn't thinking clearly yet. He was just too angry. Talking to her now, he'd probably make the situation worse, and Jaclyn had enough to worry about. He needed advice.
DeMarcus unclenched his fist and snatched his cell phone from the front pocket of his black warm-up pants. He knew who to call.
His father answered on the second ring. “Yes, the papers here ran the photo as well.”
DeMarcus gritted his teeth. “I'm going to sue these papers for invasion of privacy.”
“You'll lose. You're a public figure. This story isn't false. Is it?”
He rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “No, Pop. It isn't.”
“Then you can't claim malicious intent.” Julian didn't sound disapproving. He didn't sound disappointed, either.
“What gives them the right to spy on me? This article isn't news. It's personal.”
“Well, as you can see, your personal life makes other people a lot of money.” His father's voice was dry.
“They're making money off of the sacrifices you and Mom made, and the effort I put into building a name for myself.” DeMarcus turned his back to the newspaper. He glared across the room.
“I know it's not fair, Marc. I'm sorry this has happened.”
DeMarcus barely heard his father above the pulse pounding in his ears. “This is bullshit.”
“I know, son.”
DeMarcus turned back to the table and gripped the sports section in his fist. He wanted to grab the reporter's throat the same way. “I'm going to call the publisher and tell him he needs to focus on what's important—education, crime and health care—and stay the hell out of my privacy.”

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