Playing for Love

by Mel Curtis

  “You mean I’m worth nothing to you if I win games and someone else makes me an offer.” Evan’s hands clenched into fists. And how could anyone make an offer after only seeing him in the zone for two minutes?

  “You’re missing the point. Why would I trade you when all I’ll be left with is nothing? I built this franchise from nothing and I sure as hell am not going back there.” Jack took a sip of whiskey and eyed Evan over the rim of crystal. “You’ll make the Flash play better or your NBA career is over.”

  “That’s bull shit. I’ve got enough to worry about with my own game.”

  “That’s your problem.” Jack downed his whiskey and set the glass aside. “No one. Not me. Or Spinks. Not even Amber Rule can fix your problems. Not unless you understand why it’s necessary to change.”

  “What kind of crap is this? Are you my therapist now?” Unable to unclench his fists, Evan paced away from trouble.

  “No. I own you. And tonight you’re going to take the rest of the team out and show them a good time.”

  And paced back. “Like hell I am.”

  “Oh, you will. Or you’ll be sitting the bench the rest of the season. I’ll make sure no one makes you an offer. I put up with the idea of paying Amber Rule to fuck some performance into you, but she must not be a good enough lay because – ”

  Evan’s right hook connected with Jack’s jaw, but Evan staggered back almost immediately when Jack’s right fist jabbed viciously into Evan’s cheek, sending a burst of stars between them.

  Hell only knew why Evan had just thrown his NBA career in the crapper. Hot anger threatened to launch Evan into Jack. Anger over a woman! Evan took a breath and issued a warning. “Don’t you ever…ever talk about Amber that way again.”

  When Evan’s vision cleared, Jack stared soullessly at Evan, a trickle of blood on the corner of his mouth. “You want to fight for something? Fight for your future.” Jack’s voice rang in a way that reminded Evan of his father, a man willing to risk everything for success, even his relationship with his son. “Anywhere you go, Oliver, they’ll tell you the same thing. You need to lead or you’re worthless, not just to me, but to every team in the NBA.”

  It was like hearing his father’s dire predictions all over again. Evan hesitated, waiting for more, for Jack to toss unacceptable stats at him and then bench Evan for the rest of the season, ending his dreams of NBA greatness. But Jack seemed more concerned in medicating his demons with whiskey.

  Suddenly realizing he wasn’t fired – yet – Evan lowered his fists, straightened his shoulders and left. He’d fucked up his life but good. Jack had it right. Evan needed to follow his lead and get a little alcohol therapy. One thing he knew for sure – he was going to stay away from Amber Rule before he used up whatever luck he had left.

  Forty minutes later red hair at Tingle’s dimly lit bar stood out like a beacon. Ignoring his aching knuckles, Evan threaded his way through the crowd into a space next to Amber. He’d guessed she’d be here. And if she hadn’t been, Evan would have tracked her down elsewhere. He’d had a change of heart since exchanging blows with Jack. In Evan’s dark mood he didn’t care if Amber was ashamed of the consequences of dating him or that by refusing to invite the team out for drinks he’d probably sealed his fate. If Evan was going to hell in a hand basket, he’d pick the damn hand basket – a Ferrari, a hot redhead and then oblivion.

  “You’re predictable.” His gaze roved over Amber hungrily. She was wearing a blue halter dress that barely covered the jewels on her chest or the one between her crossed legs. His palm stroked down one thigh and came to rest very near the hem covering the promise of oblivion.

  Amber stared at him with those dark eyes that saw too much, lifting a hand to his rapidly swelling eye before catching herself and using it to remove his hand from her thigh. “You’re not. You shouldn’t be here.”

  He knew that, too, but just the sight of her lifted his spirits. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”

  “If you were, you’d be with Mimi,” Amber snapped.

  Evan duly noted Amber’s jealousy and brushed a lock of hair from her shoulder. “I bet you’re dying to ask me about the game.”

  She sipped a clear drink from a tumbler and stared straight ahead. “Sorry for your loss.”

  Evan turned to see what was so important that she wouldn’t look at him and caught her eye in the mirror behind the bar. He smiled.

  Amber turned her back on him. Her auburn curls tumbled down her bare shoulders.

  He didn’t know what to touch first – those silky tresses or her smooth creamy skin. Evan did what any red blooded man with two hands would do. Both.

  Amber gasped and arched beneath his touch.

  He knew she was remembering last night and how their bodies moved together. Dropping his hand from her hair, Evan wound his way to her side, keeping his palm on her back. “Want to dance?”

  The corner of Amber’s lip twitched. “I don’t like the way you dance.”

  Evan grinned. “Liar. You like it slow.” He tugged Amber out onto the dance floor, amidst the crowd of bodies bouncing to a quick beat. He wrapped his arms around Amber and drew her close, moving slowly to a rhythm of their own making.

  Amber lifted her face to Evan’s. Gingerly she touched the angry welt beneath his eye. “Tough day at the office?”

  “Shut up and dance.” Evan captured Amber’s mouth in a bruising kiss that left her clinging to him. His idea of a dance wouldn’t have made it past a high school prom chaperone. Theirs was a slow sensuous embrace that should have been done between the sheets. Their bodies touched everywhere. Evan was hard against Amber’s softness, ready for go-time at the first hint of her acceptance.

  “Evan Oliver!” Someone with a drunken step tugged on Evan’s shoulder and separated them. “Hey, man. You suck. When are you going to go back to the streets where you belong?” He snorted out a laugh.

  It was to be the last time for many days the dickhead laughed. The anger and frustration Evan had been feeling all evening returned. The looming loss of an NBA career. The lifestyle he had no idea how to pay for if he didn’t win. The yearning for this woman. It all coalesced in his left arm as he hauled back to pop the idiot in the chops.

  Evan waited for the shock of impact from his punch, only to realize that Amber held his left fist cradled in both her small hands. He’d drawn back to fire only to be stopped by a petite woman. Evan’s father would have shouted his disgust.

  “You can’t fight your way out of everything.” Amber’s dark eyes were filled with regret as she turned away and left Evan surrounded by a gawking audience.

  The drunken asshole who’d interrupted them tottered and grinned foolishly, raising his drink. “Here’s to women. God love ‘em.”

  The miniature bartender was handing Amber her things and glaring Evan’s way. Once more Evan pushed his way through the crowd after Amber. Ahead of him he saw the door swing open. Bulbs flashed and then the door closed.

  Evan charged through the door, which banged into…Amber.

  Holding one hand over her eyes and the other on the back of her head, Amber wavered on her heels. The door was heavy and fire proof. Not to mention Evan had put a lot of effort into getting it open.

  Without hesitation, Evan scooped Amber into his arms and walked away to a flood of flashbulbs.

  “Evan?” Amber’s eyes were squeezed shut. There was a wobble in her voice that did funny things to Evan’s chest.

  “I’m beginning to think you can’t go anywhere without me.”

  She moaned. “Put me down. They’re taking our picture.”

  And let her collapse from a woozy head rush? Not a chance. “Worried the paps will get a shot of you going commando?” Evan headed up the street to where he’d left the Ferrari parked. Footsteps trailed behind them.

  “I never go panty-less.” Amber kept her voice down. Her eyes were still shut tight.

  “Never?” Evan couldn’t muster a laugh. She’d received one heck of a wallop.<
br />
  Amber gripped Evan’s shirt so tightly she pinched skin. “The least you could do is apologize for steamrolling me.”

  “I thought you’d be running.”

  “The flashbulbs blinded me. I stumbled back.”

  With a minimal amount of juggling, Evan unlocked his car and opened the door. He lowered Amber gingerly into the passenger seat. With careful fingers Evan traced her crown until he found a lump the size of an egg.

  “Ow.”

  “Open your eyes and tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

  Amber cracked open one eye, cringed when light strobed around them and shut her eyes once more.

  “I said back off,” Evan growled, rising to pound the crap out of someone, only to watch them quickly retreat.

  “How are you getting along with your boss?” One photographer had turned and took one more shot of Evan before getting a good look at his face. He scuttled away.

  “Quite giving that guy the one-fingered salute.” Amber was peeking between her fingers.

  Evan peered into her eyes. They weren’t dilated. “Thank God.” Evan shut Amber in and made his way around to the driver’s side. The Ferrari rumbled to life, about the only thing tonight that obeyed his wishes.

  “I don’t need a hospital,” Amber mumbled, blinking. “I think I have an ice pack in my freezer. If you drive around the block I’ll get my car.”

  Evan’s jaw was clenched. “I’ll take you home.” He knew the signs of a concussion. Although her eyes weren’t dilated, that could change. Amber shouldn’t be alone for several hours. He’d decide when they got to her house if she needed medical attention.

  Amber hesitated before answering. “No, thanks.” When he didn’t respond, she glanced at him and added, “You’re not driving me home. They’ll be waiting there for us.”

  “Then I’ll take you to my place.”

  “Uh, double no. Thanks.”

  “Or I could circle back around to Tingle, kiss you senseless in front of the photographers and then kick you out of the car.”

  She gripped the dashboard. “You’re joking, right?”

  Backing up the threat, Evan made a quick turn.

  “Okay, sure. Your place it is.” She drew a deep breath. “But only for a few minutes.”

  Hah! Evan had Amber right where he wanted her.

  Amber sat in Evan’s living room with a bag of frozen peas pressed to the bump on her head. After giving her the peas, Evan had disappeared in the back of the house. Amber was feeling guilty. Evan was developing quite a shiner. He needed a bag of peas or huge steak for his face.

  Evan had a comfortable leather sofa, black, of course, with a small black coffee table on one end and a large screen television mounted on the wall. No pictures. No other chairs. No video games. Plenty of room for a man who loved basketball to dribble around on the dark hardwood floor.

  Undeniably curious and feeling better, Amber poked her head into the kitchen, which was gorgeously done in black marble with stainless appliances. The red plastic cups stacked on the counter next to the paper plates ruined the effect only slightly. Evan’s refrigerator was better stocked than hers – fruits, vegetables, eggs, cheese, milk. Not a beer in sight. No ice cream in the freezer either. She debated putting the peas back inside, but kept them in her hand instead.

  Amber wandered down the hall. It was a real hall, too, long and wide, not the short narrow thing she had in her Pasadena home. The first door was slightly ajar. A bathroom. Beautiful mottled brown granite counters and tile floors, but barren.

  She flipped on the light in the second room. “Wow.”

  It was a weight room as starkly decorated as the rest of the house except for two framed movie posters, Dracula and Batman, in a perpetual Mexican standoff. There was something about the stance of Batman, the almost imperceptible bend to his shoulders that was naggingly familiar.

  “Hey, what are you doing walking around?” Evan stepped into the room.

  Amber couldn’t stop staring at Batman. “Just curious.”

  “No whips and chains here.”

  Amber turned to glance at Evan and his puffy eye, standing in the doorway holding a glass of water and aspirin hesitantly, shoulders slightly bent as if waiting for her to reject him. In that moment Evan looked almost like…Batman.

  Heavy Suitcase.

  Evan had talked about his childhood and his rocky relationship with his dad. He had to prove himself to Jack Gordon, the NBA and the world. His burden was as heavy as Amber’s and yet for most of the day Evan hid his problems beneath that big ego of his. He had to have realized they were better off apart, but he’d sought Amber out at Tingle. That had to mean something. In that moment, Amber was determined to uncover whatever recipe her dad had for helping people afflicted with a big ego. Evan needed her.

  Life had made Evan tough, but he was also tender and considerate. Sure, he gave Amber a hard time, but when it counted Evan watched out for her. She’d hounded him and given him many an opportunity to hate her. Evan demanded excellence from himself, compensating for those around him in order to achieve a common goal. The biggest bad-ass in the NBA? In his own mind, maybe.

  Amber’s heart urged her to go to Evan, to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything was going to be all right. She drank in her fill of this rare, vulnerable Evan, imprinting him on her memory so that years from now she could look back with bittersweet regret at what she’d given up for the good of everyone else.

  Because Amber was in love with him.

  Intellectually, Amber rejected the idea. Amber was all wrong for Evan. He needed someone who didn’t run away from the spotlight, someone who managed the paparazzi, not someone who hid and when confronted started water fights.

  She couldn’t be in love with Evan. It was too soon. They fought about everything. Even how they had sex. Falling in love with Evan would be the same as trying to swim and eat ice cream at the same time – failure on both counts. Blue would kill her. Cora would never let her live it down. And the Dooley Foundation? Ruined.

  “No more walking around. You look pretty pale.” Oblivious to the fact that Amber’s heart beat and broke for him in the span of less than a minute, Evan administered aspirin and water. “The best thing about frozen peas is the bag clings to you, but only if you stay put.” Setting her water glass on the floor, Evan scooped Amber up for the second time that night and carried her deeper into his home.

  Evan was just being considerate. He probably felt guilty about causing more abuse to her body. Still, Amber’s fingers drifted up to the side of his cheek, lingering tenderly over his puffy eye before weaving their way into his hair. This would be the last time they were together. Amber wanted to remember every word, every sensual imprint. “You smell nice.”

  His step might have hesitated, but he said nothing.

  Evan nudged open a door with his elbow, crossed the hardwood into deeper shadows and lay Amber carefully on a bed covered in silk sheets.

  “Is this your room?” It felt like it. There was space and shadow to hide his tortured soul. That conk on the noggin was making Amber melodramatic.

  Without answering, Evan took the peas from Amber’s hand, lifted her head and slid the peas beneath it The light from the hallway cast his face in stark contrast as he hesitated above her.

  “Why don’t you get something cold for your eye and come keep me company?” Amber skimmed her hand over the soft material covering the bed. Here she was with a lump on her head fancying herself in love with one of the biggest bad-asses in the NBA and practically begging him to get into bed with her. This had mistake written all over it.

  The hunk in question backed away from the bed.

  “Evan?” Had she misread everything? Was he just being nice?

  Evan took another step back. “I’ll wake you up every hour or so to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

  “You’re leaving me?” Alone in his bed?

  “I’ve had lots of concussions. I know the signs. If
we need to, we’ll get you to emergency.” He took another step back.

  “I’m fine. If I wasn’t fine, I wouldn’t be in your bed.” Evan was exasperating. Didn’t he get it? Amber loved him. She wanted to show that love with her body.

  Or maybe Evan did get it. Maybe Evan was remembering their argument this morning. Clearly, her feelings were one sided. Evan was showing common sense because he didn’t love her.

  Amber didn’t care. Come morning she would, but tonight she wanted to pretend that Evan was hers.

  “Your timing is off,” he said, breaking her heart with the truth. “You hit your head.”

  “You hit my head.” Amber sat up, did her best sex kitten pose and tried for the heady hypnotic stare Dracula had mastered. Come closer. Touch me.

  “Amber…” Evan glanced at the door. So much for her come hither look. “I don’t play games.”

  Suddenly self conscious, Amber crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, you do. You’ve been playing with me since the day we met, toying with me like I’m the mouse to your homeless Tomcat. And now you’re running away.”

  “I don’t run from my problems.”

  So she was a problem. Amber’s heart clenched. She bowed her head.

  “Neither one of us is going to change. You’re always going to be trying to make me a better man. I’m always going to be a selfish ass in the spotlight, which is exactly where you don’t want to be.” Evan was silhouetted by the hall light, him and his burdened shoulders. He dragged his foot closer toward the door.

  Evan was wrong. Amber loved him just the way he was, faults and all. She wanted to ease his troubles, not change him. But her assets had failed her. Not surprising since she was the weaker sex and a dork by Hollywood’s standards. It was time for psychological warfare. “Fine. Think of me when you’re down the hall and I’m tangled in your sheets.”

  Evan hesitated.

  Amber reclined back against the pillows. The forgotten bag of peas a shock against her bare neck. “Oh, and can you turn on the light?”

  “Why? It’ll only hurt your eyes.”

  “Because when you do come to your senses I want to see you when we make love.” There, she’d said it. The L word. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it was more intimate than referring to what she hoped to be doing in a few minutes as sex.