Keeping Score

KEEPING SCORE

“You’d sacrifice your dream of a championship title for your marriage?”

Warrick flicked his friend a look. “I want to be a good husband to Mary first. I can’t be that when I’m the source of the strain on our marriage.”

“But
you’re
not causing the strain. The
media
is. Mary knows that.” Jaclyn’s reasonable tone reminded Warrick of his efforts to explain the media madness to his wife.

“And they’ll continue to be a problem as long as I’m an active player.”

“You mean as long as you’re a public figure, which is what they’ll consider you for the rest of your life.”

“You won’t change my mind, Jackie.”

Jaclyn wiped her upper lip with her right wrist. “Will Mary be all right with your giving up your lifelong dream?”

Warrick recalled an image of Marilyn standing at the top of their staircase the night she’d told him she hoped he got the ring this season so he could retire.

Warrick looked at Jaclyn. “It wouldn’t be her first choice. But I don’t think a divorce would be, either.”

Jaclyn shook her head. “I can’t imagine the Monarchs without you. And I can’t imagine you retiring without at least one ring. I really want that title for you. I’m certain Mary wants that as well. She believes in you, Rick. And she loves you. She wouldn’t want you to retire with regrets.”

The Empire Arena came back into view. Warrick checked his watch. They were going to complete their run in less than fifty minutes.

Warrick wiped the sweat from his brow. “Then I’ve got one of two choices. I can either retire after this season without a ring, if it comes to that. Or I could continue my career until I earn a ring and retire without a wife.” He caught Jaclyn’s eyes. “Which would you choose?”

Also by Regina Hart
Fast Break
Smooth Play

Keeping
SCORE

REGINA HART

Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

KEEPING SCORE
Also by Regina Hart
Fast Break Smooth Play
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
Teaser chapter
Copyright Page

To my dream team:

• My sister, Bernadette, for giving me the dream

• My husband, Michael, for supporting the dream

• My brother, Richard, for believing in the dream

• My brother, Gideon, for encouraging the dream

• My friend and critique partner, Marcia James, for sharing the dream

And to Mom and Dad always with love

Acknowledgments

Sincere thanks to Stephanie W. Costa, MD, an obstetrician/gynecologist, and C.J. Lyons, MD, a pediatric emergency room doctor and multi-published author, for their help with the hospital information.

1

“Enough’s enough, Mary. When are you coming home?” Warrick Evans settled his hips against the kitchen counter. He gripped its smoke and white marble top behind him. It was late Sunday afternoon. From across the room, he pinned his wife of almost two years with a steady stare.

Dr. Marilyn Devry-Evans angled her softly rounded stubborn chin. Her chocolate eyes met his challenge. “I’ve told you I need time, Rick.”

Warrick’s palms were sweating. He swallowed the brick of fear in his throat. “It’s been a month.”

A blush kissed the honey brown skin of her high cheekbones, but her gaze never wavered. “I have a lot to consider. I didn’t realize what I was getting into when I married you.”

“I told you when we met that I was a basketball player.”

Marilyn hugged her arms around her slender torso. “But the Brooklyn Monarchs weren’t any good when we met. Now that you’re in the play-offs, you’re a celebrity.”

“I’m still Rick.” His grip tightened on the counter until his knuckles hurt.

“You’re Rick amplified.” Marilyn shook her head. The straight strands of her dark brown ponytail swung around her shoulders. “You’re in the newspaper every day. People are gossiping about you, about me, about us. I never planned to live my life in the spotlight.”

Knowing she had a point didn’t make hearing it any easier. “Neither did I. But that’s part of the price I have to pay for a championship ring.” The other costs were his swollen knees and the spasms in his back.

“As your wife, the loss of privacy is a price I have to pay, too.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. When I fell in love with you, I didn’t consider how my career would affect you.” Warrick took a breath, then another. “Is the price too high?”

“I don’t know.” Marilyn’s words sliced his heart right down the middle.

What was behind her indecision? Marilyn was an obstetrician/gynecologist. She made sound decisions quickly all the time. Why couldn’t she make a decision about their marriage? What—or who—was coming between them? He had his pick of options, starting with her parents.

Warrick rubbed his forehead. His fingers burned as the circulation returned. Terrell and Celeste Devry had warned their daughter against marrying a man who “played games” for a living. Nothing Warrick said or did would change their minds, and he’d done everything short of sending them his college transcripts. Luckily, his in-laws hadn’t been able to change Marilyn’s mind. Not even their scowls during the ceremony could derail the wedding.

He dropped his hand. Warrick ached as his gaze lifted to Marilyn’s profile. Her gleaming mass of dark hair was swept back and restrained at the nape of her neck with her usual clip thing. Warrick wanted to release the device and draw his fingers through her hair. He wanted to pull her into his arms. It had been too long since he’d held her.

He released his grip on the kitchen counter and stepped forward. “I miss you, Mary.”

Her wide eyes were filled with sadness and confusion—and it was all so pointless.

“I miss you, too.” Her voice was husky.

Relief rushed him, rocking him back on his heels. Warrick closed his eyes briefly. She still cared. He had reason to hope. “Then come home.”

Marilyn shook her head, her expression miserable. “It’s not that easy, Rick.”

He moved closer. Her body’s warmth pulled him like a magnet. He wanted to bury his head against her neck and inhale her fragrance—jasmine and talcum. He missed breathing her scent as he fell asleep at night and woke in the morning.

Warrick studied her features one by one—high forehead, short nose, sharp cheekbones, sexy lips, stubborn chin.

“Do you love me?” His voice was a whisper.

Marilyn dropped her arms. “Of course I do.”

His heart healed. “And I love you. It isn’t any more complicated than that.”

Her rich dark eyes searched his. “But it is. I don’t like opening the newspaper or logging on to the Internet and finding stories speculating about our marriage and whether I’m good enough for you. I don’t like people attacking you and questioning your character.”

“It doesn’t matter what other people think. All that matters is what we know, and I know that I need you in my life.”

He reached for her, lowering his head until his mouth met hers. Her lips were soft and welcoming beneath his. It had been more than four weeks—twenty-nine days—since he’d last touched her. Tasted her. He was starved for her loving. Warrick held her tighter against him. He traced the shape of her mouth with his and she opened for him.

Warrick’s body relaxed with her acceptance. He slipped his tongue between her lips. His senses were overwhelmed by the sweet, hot taste of her. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, his knees went weak. He traced the curves of her slender shape. The touch stirred the memory of the way her body looked above him. The way she felt beneath him. His blood sang in his veins.

Warrick walked them toward the kitchen table. He loosened his hold on her to pull her soft cream blouse from the waistband of her brown pants. He raised his arms so Marilyn could help him pull his jersey over his head. Her fingers singed a trail across his abdomen as she nudged the material higher. She played with the hair on his torso. Warrick’s muscles quivered. His breath quickened at her touch. Could she feel his heart racing? Could she tell how much he needed her?

They shed her blouse and pants with the urgency of their very first time. But it was too fast. He had to slow it down. He wanted Marilyn to remember how good they were together. He needed her to want to come home. Warrick drew in a slow, deep breath. Her scent made him throb with desire. He stepped back, fighting for control. He battled back the desire raging inside him. His body wanted to make this fast and hot. His heart wanted them to last forever.

Marilyn slipped off her black camisole. Warrick’s body tightened at the sight of her slender curves in barely there, wine red underwear. Her firm breasts rose above a demi-cup bra. Her slim hips teased him with a strip of matching cloth.

Warrick wanted to stay in these feelings forever. He wanted to charge forward, past the static between them, and save his marriage. He wanted to go back in time and tell the gangly, nerdish adolescent he’d been that one day he’d marry a woman with brains and the body of a goddess.

He closed the distance between them again. Marilyn’s chocolate eyes darkened as her gaze moved over his chest, down to the khaki pants riding low on his hips. Warrick reached behind her neck and released the clip binding her hair.

He drew his fingers through the thick, loose mass. It was as soft as a sigh against his skin. Her fragrance wafted up to him. Warrick’s muscles tightened. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Marilyn balanced her hands on his shoulders. She rose on her toes and touched her lips to his.

Heat shot through him, making him catch his breath. He struggled to find control but need was a fire consuming him from the inside out. Only for this woman. Always for this woman. He clasped Marilyn against him, pressing her breasts to his chest, holding her hips hard to his. Marilyn gasped and Warrick swept his tongue inside her mouth.

Their tongues danced, sliding over and across each other, wrapping around one another in a simulation of the way their bodies would move. Marilyn moaned in her throat. The low, sexy sound made Warrick light-headed. Her body moved with his, telling him what she wanted, what she needed, what she liked.

On the edge of his consciousness, Warrick felt her fingers at the waistband of his pants, working his belt. He stepped back and stripped off his khakis and underwear. Marilyn reached out and molded her palms against his pectorals. His heart beat painfully under her hands. She ran her short, neat fingernails down his chest, over his abdomen, and into the hairs at his groin. Warrick’s muscles quivered with anticipation.