Bad Ballers: A Contemporary Sports Romance Box Set

by Bishop, S. J.

  Of course he was here. The Dolphins were playing the Bears this week.

  Nikki was quieting, her cries subsiding into heavy breaths, and when she was fully asleep, Law laid her out on my small Ikea couch. Then he turned to me, his arms still open. I didn’t hesitate; I threw myself into them.

  Law’s arms wrapped around me, holding me tight as I started crying again. “Oh god, not you, too,” said Law, trying to joke.

  I said something muffled into his chest, and he rubbed my back until I, too, stopped crying. Sniffing, I pulled back. “That’s some talent you have,” I said.

  “Lady charming?” he winked.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, my voice breaking with emotion.

  “Apparently, I came right on time,” he said, staring down at Nikki’s sleeping form, one eyebrow raised. “I didn’t know she could be such a terror.”

  “Must be a relief to know she doesn’t get it from your side.”

  Law snorted.

  “Too soon?” I asked. He didn’t respond. “What are you doing here?” I tried again.

  “If I’m being honest?” He untangled himself from my grasp and stepped away, putting distance between us. I hated that distance. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to hang onto Law and never let go. I didn’t care who his family was. I was in hell, and Law was a delivering angel.

  “I went to dinner with Andre, and he was asking about you.” Law came forward and reached out, running a hand over my cheek. He seemed to take heart when I leaned against it. “I went back to my hotel and was lying there by myself. I didn’t want to be by myself. Gwen…”

  He reached down and took my hand. “At the risk of getting rejected yet another time, I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to move on from you, or get over you, or pretend those nights in Miami never happened. So I got up. And I came he...”

  He didn’t get the word out of his mouth. I was kissing him. A desperate, brutal, passionate kiss. I leaped into his arms, wrapping my legs about his waist. He kissed me back, tepidly, as if not quite willing to forgive me for not telling him earlier about Nikki. But I wasn’t giving up. I kissed, and kissed, and kissed him, until finally, his arms banded about me.

  Leaning down, I bit his ear, lightly. “Bedroom’s the second door on the left. I want you, Law. I don’t want anyone but you.”

  The sex was wild, desperate, and fast. There was little need for foreplay. I was soaking wet for him, and he came into me hard, pounding at me until I orgasmed. Then he followed, his roar echoing through the small apartment.

  * * *

  Much later, when we calmed down, when the room was quiet and the city was just dying down outside, I whispered, “What’s next, Law? What do we do now?”

  I was worried he was going to ask me to move again. Worried about what he’d do when I said no. But he didn’t ask.

  “Tomorrow’s the game. Next week, we play Carolina. But then, I have a bi-week. I could come back. You could show me Chicago. Let me take you and Nikki out for pizza.”

  I relaxed in his arms, my heart suddenly full to bursting. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’d like that very much.”

  Law pulled me closer, kissing my cheekbone. “Sleep, Gwen,” he said into my hair. “I’m here.”

  Epilogue

  Law

  “Remember when you helped me move into my house?” asked Andre. I took a deep breath. I knew where he was going with this. “And I asked when you were going to settle down into the suburbs?”

  “Andre…” I warned.

  “How’s it feel to eat crow, buddy?” Andre snickered, slapping me on the back. I bit back a growl.

  “Hey, Law!” I heard Gwen’s voice but didn’t see her. So I walked toward where the giant moving truck was parked. She was inside, staring at all of the furniture we had yet to unpack.

  “Are you two going to shoot the shit, or are you going to help me get this stuff out of the truck?”

  “Relax,” I said, holding out a hand to help Gwen down. “We’ve hired people to lift for you.”

  I tucked her under my arm. “You’re going to have to get used to having money, Gwen,” I said. “When you have money, you can pay other people to lift your shit.”

  As if on cue, the movers appeared at the front door of the house. They’d just brought the couch in and were coming back for the other things.

  When Andre came up behind us, I answered his question with a smile. “I didn’t know crow could taste so good,” I said.

  Even after a year of long-distance dating, Gwen had refused to move to Miami. So we’d compromised. Coral Gables was far enough outside the city for her comfort and close enough to my family for mine.

  I tugged Gwen over to where Nikki was playing in the grass with Lamar. Kim was inside with her eight-year-old, unpacking the kitchen boxes.

  “Hey, Nik!” I called. “Want to pick out your room!?”

  Nikki looked uncertain, but I scooped her up as I passed by. We had a week to get the new house organized before Gwen started her new job.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Gwen, ducking into the kitchen, while I took Nikki upstairs. We walked into three of the bedrooms before Nikki decided she liked the yellow room best.

  “What have you got there?” I asked, as Gwen appeared in the doorway holding a piece of paper. She smiled at me and, holding my eye, tore the paper in half, then in quarters, and then into eighths. I raised a brow at her. “The DNA results,” she said keeping her voice low. “They don’t matter any more, do they? And so there’s no reason to keep them.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. Then I walked up, slowly, and gave her a long, deep kiss. When I broke away, Nikki was watching us, so I left her and Lamar to play in the yellow room.

  “What do you think?” I asked Gwen, softly, when we were out of earshot.

  “I think,” said Gwen, “that there are a lot of rooms in this house. And it’s going to take a lot of sex to christen all of them.”

  Hunger pooled low in my gut. “Where do you want to start?” I asked, my hand spanning Gwen’s hip and pulling her close.

  Gwen’s smile was sweet as she leaned up and breathed hotly into my ear, “Kitchen table.”

  Taking Possession

  BOOK 4

  1

  Anne

  “Reach out and catch us, ladies!” the coxswain shouted as our boat drifted into the dock of the Potomac Pirates’ boathouse. Eight of us stretched our hands and caught the dock, pulling the boat in gently.

  “Starboards, one foot out…” the coxswain called out, and I hefted myself out of the boat, groaning as my glute muscles protested. Today’s practice had been hard, and I’d thrown myself into each and every one of the strokes.

  “Hurry up, ladies!” the coxswain yelled as the team removed the oars and slid our shoes back on. “The men’s team is coming in.”

  No need to tell me twice. I wasn’t interested in engaging with the men’s team this morning. Our dock was small and could only hold one boat at a time. I was eager to get our boat up and get upstairs before I had to run into Pete – the stroke of the men’s masters eight.

  Pete and I had gone out on our third date last week. Usually, on a third date, you expect the guy to kiss you. Pete, on the other hand, had paused on my doorstep and, instead of leaning in, said, “I don’t know, Anne. I’m not so sure this is working…”

  I’d been too stunned to say anything other than “okay.” Pete had made a quick getaway, and my feelings had been pretty hurt. Yes, he was a bit dull and slightly awkward to talk to, but I thought we’d been hitting it off okay. We’d been friendly before we’d started dating, but now, we hadn’t spoken to each other in four days.

  The team finished putting the oars away and hefted our boat out of the water.

  As we headed toward the locker room, my teammate Jenny sidled up to me. “What a bummer about Pete. I thought you guys would have really hit it off.”

  Yah. So had everyone. I’d thought so too, and maybe it
says something about me that I didn’t see his rejection coming. I was usually the one to call it off with guys. Shaking my head, I could hear my mother’s voice: A hundred guys later, Annie, and I’m starting to think it’s not them; it’s you.

  “Well, you never know what’s going to happen until you give it a shot,” I said, striving to sound more cheerful than I felt. “Great job today, BTW. You were killing it up there.”

  “BTW? You’re spending too much time with your kids,” said Jenny.

  “Speaking of which, I have to get going. I don’t want to be late.”

  School started at 8, so I had about twenty minutes to shower and get myself over to Saint Francis Xavier High School. I teach ninth grade English, and while I would love to walk in late to my first period, you can’t leave teenagers alone for long.

  I grabbed a quick shower and slid into my black slacks and heels and a dressy blue blouse that made my hair look especially red. I ran a blow dryer through it until it was only loosely damp and wound it up into a bun. I applied quick, light makeup, grabbed my bags, and hustled out of the locker room.

  On my way out, I caught a glimpse of Pete heading into the boathouse. He’d pulled his unisuit down to his waist, revealing his rock hard muscles. Too bad he had the personality of a dishrag – because the man was really good looking. Sighing, I headed to my car.

  Throwing my bags into the perennially empty passenger seat, I started the ignition and turned on the radio.

  “…stay tuned for our Celebrity News on the half hour! Katie K, tell em’ what’s coming up!”

  “Oh we’ve got lots of good tid-bits for you folks out there! Kyra and Kelly are ensconced in yet another marketing scandal, Late Night’s Mel Rosa’s in hot water over off the cuff comments, and two of the hottest, wealthiest celebs in the biz are once again on the market. That’s right folks: The Barnes Divorce is official!”

  I reached out, turned the radio off, and sat there stunned as silence echoed through the car. Well, shit. I got out my phone and shot a quick text off to my sister. Heard on the radio the divorce went through. U OK?

  Nothing. But I guess that wasn’t surprising. I’d barely spoken to Becca since she’d sent the family an email with the news that she and Dash were calling it quits. My mother was devastated (she loved Dash), my father was encouraging (hang in there, sweetie! We’re rooting for you), but none of us had really been able to have a conversation with Becca since then. She’d texted me a few times (2 busy, talk L8R!), but she hadn’t returned any of my calls.

  This might sound bad, but I took a strange sense of solace in Becca’s misfortune. It wasn’t necessarily that misery loves company but it was nice to know that Becca’s life wasn’t perfect. My little sister and I have never been close, and since Becca was discovered at the age of 14, she’d really had no time for anyone other than her career. And Dash.

  After a year of dating, Becca had married the New England Patriot’s star quarterback. They were tabloid darlings with a life that everyone envied.

  In fact, keeping in touch with Dash was the only way I ever kept abreast of what was going on with Becca. Dash had always been big on family and had made it a point to reach out to all of us when Becca was too busy.

  If there was a real tragedy in this whole divorce, it was that I wouldn’t get a chance to see Dash anymore.

  My phone buzzed. Startled, I picked it up. Had Becca gotten back to me for once?

  Hey, Annie. I’m in town a few days for a commercial shoot. Care to meet up and grab dinner?

  I blinked. As if my thoughts had summoned him, Dash was texting. Shit. Shit.

  I don’t know why my heart started hammering so hard or why nausea suddenly threatened to overwhelm me. I guess it was because when Dash had been married to my sister, he was my brother-in-law. So what that I was in love with him? I could deny my feelings all I wanted.

  But now, he and Becca were divorced. I’d be sitting across from the world’s most eligible bachelor, having dinner. Breathe, Anne. Dash doesn’t see you that way.

  I was tempted to say no to dinner. Dash Barnes was the reason I was still single. Dash Barnes was the man I compared all other men to and found them wanting.

  While Becca wasn’t overtly upset about their divorce, I knew Dash must be devastated. Dash wasn’t the divorcing type, and I had a feeling – though Becca had confirmed nothing – that she was the one who had instigated the divorce.

  I tried to force my heart to settle by reminding myself that it didn’t matter if I had feelings for Dash. He would always be my sister’s ex-husband. He would always be off limits. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t still be his friend, did it?

  I texted back. Just heard about the divorce. Happy to meet for dinner. U OK?

  The gray bubbles of response appeared before his return message. Ok. Could use a friend.

  I sighed, hitting my head against the headrest. Sure. You pick the place, I typed back.

  2

  Dash

  I was in no mood to do a commercial shoot.

  But life goes on, right? It has to. Obviously. And I’d be terrible at my job if I let life’s distractions keep me from being focused on me. That was how you won football games: focus. You have to know what you want and do what it takes to get to your goals.

  You’ve also got to reward yourself a little along the way.

  I agreed to continue filming the Nike commercial because it was in DC, because it gave me a chance to size up our new receiver, and because Annie lived in DC. At the time I had agreed to do the shoot, my marriage hadn’t yet fallen out from under me, and the DC shoot had been a good excuse to visit Becca’s sister.

  My wife – ex-wife – didn’t get along with her sister, but I’d always been a big Annie fan. She was sweet as they come and a great listener. She was the one at a party handing out hors d’oeuvres or playing with your five-year-old nephew. She has her head on straight. I’d thrown a shit-ton of problems at her over the last five years, and she always had good advice.

  Though I’d wanted to, I hadn’t reached out to her during the divorce. I hadn’t been planning on reaching out on this trip either – I’d convinced myself that I was going to make a clean break from the Browns. But then the divorce papers went through, and the media outlets were all over it. I was feeling pretty shitty, and if there was anyone I could vent to about Becca, it was her sister.

  The moment Annie agreed to meet me, I felt as if pounds of weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could pretend, at least for an evening, that my life hadn’t turned upside down.

  You pick the place, she’d texted. That was easier said than done. From a publicity standpoint, it would be odd to be seen out with my ex’s sister the day our divorce was finalized. But the real problem was that not many people even knew Becca had a sister. And the two didn’t look alike. If we were seen together, some idiot might think I was on a date. And that was all I needed.

  After giving it some thought, the best place to eat was probably the hotel. I texted Annie the time and place and, after checking my watch, got up to head over to the shoot. Today was going to be rough, no matter what. I just had to try to avoid televisions and radios.

  Though Becca and I had tried to keep things quiet, the public had always been fascinated with our relationship. Based on the coverage after we’d announced the divorce, however, most people hadn’t seen it coming. The Barnes Break Up: Love is Dead! Nobody had heard the fights we’d had in private: fights about scheduling, fights about thoughtfulness, and fights about family. Becca refused to give me the one thing I wanted more than anything: kids.

  “You’re so selfish!” she had screamed at me whenever I’d pushed the issue. “My body is my livelihood, and I won’t sacrifice that for you!” Listing all of the successful models who’d had children hadn’t helped my cause.

  Worse than the scream-a-thons were the weeks of silence that had stretched between us after the fights. I think a good third of my marriage had been devoted to passive-aggressive
silence.

  That last fight had been our biggest: hours of shouting followed by a whole month of silence. At the end of that month, Becca had presented me with the divorce papers.

  “We don’t want the same things,” she’d said. “You’re miserable, and so am I.”

  I’d tried to argue with her. To tell her that these things happened in marriages and that we could overcome them. “Do you really want to?” she’d asked me, pointedly. “Honestly, Dash. I think you’re just being lazy – that you don’t want to go through the effort of a divorce. Well, don’t worry. I’ve already gone through the effort for you.”

  Becca had orchestrated our split with a thoroughness that suggested she’d been planning it for at least a year, long before our last fight.

  It had taken me only two days to agree to the divorce. She was right. We didn’t want the same things.

  But that didn’t mean separation was easy. I’d had to move my shit out of our house and into an apartment. I’d had to dodge reporters and rumors of infidelity – it had been a mess.

  It was over now, but that didn’t make me feel better about it. I felt, for the first time in my life, like a real loser.

  3

  Anne

  I think I tried on every single piece of clothing in my closet before I gave up and stood in my room, naked and despairing.

  I’ve never been jealous of Becca’s looks. Though Becca is a striking beauty (dark blonde hair, angular face, bold nose, and lush lips), I’m pretty in my own right. My features are softer, and I have red hair that Becca’s always been jealous of (we share the same dark-blue eyes).