“You bring those for us?” Devon joked.
Scott didn’t bother to answer. Within the next ten minutes all three plates were completely empty. He nodded to a passing server, piled the three plates on his tray and dismissed him. “Hey, Devon, I heard your girl Trina just signed her divorce papers,” Scott said, wiping his mouth with a cocktail napkin.
“Divorced?” Devon said, surprised to hear the news.
“Parker in Houston told me about it. You know Trina was good friends with his ex-wife. Apparently her ex wasn’t the billionaire he told her he was. She started going through the cash, and he put the brakes on. I’d say she went with the wrong meal ticket.” Scott laughed heartily. “Yep, she’s single again. So watch your back, bro. A’ight now, so what we got up in here, any lovelies of interest?” Scott asked, rubbing his fat hands together greedily.
“Just the young and dangerous kind,” Armand warned.
“A’ight, now that’s what I’m talking about.”
Devon and Armand looked at each other and shook their heads. Everyone knew Scott was the biggest hound in the league. He lived in family-court. He had three children by three different women and another one on the way. He often joked that he intended to start his own team.
“You live too dangerously for me, man,” Devon said, then pounded fists with Armand, who obviously agreed with him.
Scott continued laughing. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“I pass,” Armand said.
“I’ve got two on my tail already,” Devon said. He turned to see the two girls in micro mini dresses and stiletto heels. They smiled, giggled and waved as soon as he glanced at them.
Scott turned around, too. “You need to work that, man. Ain’t nothing wrong with getting a piece of the action.”
“Nah, you know I don’t play that. They may be young, but they know exactly what they’re doing. They specialize in playing innocent when they need to. I’m not about to be chased down by some girl and her lawyer talking about baby daddy and child support.”
“Two words,” Scott said. “Paternity test.”
“These girls be sweating a player doing hard time. I’d rather go up against a three-hundred-and-fifty pound lineman than to be up on all that drama,” Armand added.
“See, that’s why I’m about to get myself hooked,” Scott said as he glanced around the room again. “Yo, yo, is that who I think it is? I heard she was here. Damn, it is her. She’s lookin’ good.” Armand turned to see who Scott was talking about.
Devon didn’t have to look. He knew exactly who Scott had asked about. He was talking about Jazelle. Suddenly he felt an instant sense of possessiveness, but said nothing. He didn’t really blame them. Jazz was every man’s fantasy.
“That’s Jazelle Richardson. Damn, but she’s still hot. I never saw her in person before. Damn,” Armand reiterated, “she is sweet.”
“Yo, when did she come back out to play?” Scott asked.
“What do you mean?” Devon asked.
“Check the tabloids sometimes, man. One of my girls was cracking on that for months. So, like her mom dies, then her brother and then some D-list actress started crying that Jazz stole her man out from under her.”
“Did she?” Devon asked curiously.
“Who knows? The actress got her fifteen minutes of fame. That’s all I remember,” Armand said.
“Yo, didn’t she check into some rehab center in Arizona or New Mexico or someplace like that?” Scott asked.
“After all that drama, she probably needed to get her head together,” Armand said.
“Yo, check it out, she’s looking over here. She’s checking me out. I’ma see if I can break off a piece of that.”
“Don’t bother,” Devon said.
Both Scott and Armand turned to him. Then they looked at each other and laughed. “Yo, man, Devon, she shot you down, didn’t she?” Scott said. Devon nodded. Scott and Armand laughed riotously.
“This has got to be a first,” Armand said. “Devon Hayes shot down by a woman. I never thought I’d see the day that happened.” They laughed again.
Devon smirked. “It was only the first down. You know that I don’t give up the game that easily,” he vowed.
“Step aside, young blood. Let a man show you how it’s done.”
“Oh, please, fool, like you got game,” Armand said.
“Let it go, Scott,” Devon said possessively.
“Yo, man, you snooze, you lose. You had your shot. For real,” Scott said, “I got this.”
“Let him go,” Armand said. “I’m sure she’s been shooting them down all night.”
“With the scrubs working this room, I don’t blame her,” Scott said confidently. “But check it out. I’m the real deal.”
“Hold up. I thought you were about to be hooked up. Aren’t you supposed to get married in a few weeks?” Devon asked.
“Yeah, man, but I ain’t dead yet. Check it out. She’s looking over here again. Yo, I’ll talk to you later.” He held his fist out to pound. “I’m gonna hit this.”
“Good luck,” Armand said, shaking his head and laughing as Scott strolled over. “Poor fool doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.”
They watched as Scott stepped up to Jazz just before she left the room. He said something. She nodded and smiled, and then they shook hands. He held her hand then leaned in too close, dipping his head to her neck each time he spoke. Devon took a step forward, then stopped himself. Scott raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. A second later, Jazz nodded then walked away. Scott was instantly besieged by the two young girls that had been behind him earlier. He beamed happily, obviously not at all fazed by Jazz’s rejection. “Like I said, not a snowball’s chance,” Armand said, chuckling knowingly.
Devon smirked and shook his head as he continued to watch Jazz. She was definitely intriguing. Just then she turned and glanced back at the party. Their eyes locked. His narrowed as his smile crept ever so close to a grin. Seconds later, she slipped outside. Armand noticed the interaction. “It seems Scott was right about one thing. She was staring over here. But not at him—at you. Looks like the game’s back on.”
“I’ll see you later,” Devon said.
Devon looked around for Melanie. She had informed him earlier that she’d invited several possible matches for him to the party. She had introduced him to several women, but none of them impressed him like Jazz. She was who he wanted. He made his decision. He wanted Jazelle Richardson.
He scanned the first floor for Melanie and found her across the room. He headed over. Midway there he was intercepted by a young woman who’d hovered around him all evening. Overly confident, she’d been aggressively pursuing him since he walked in the door. He had discouraged her several times, but it appeared she just wasn’t going to take the hint, so this time he blatantly told her that he wasn’t interested, hoping that would put her off. It didn’t.
When he got to Melanie, she introduced him to her other guests in the small group, then excused them for a private word. “So, Devon, have you decided which lady you’d like to spend some time with?” Melanie asked quietly. She looked around the room, seeing the three women she and Jessica had introduced to him earlier. The women were all the type of woman he’d initially asked to meet, but she secretly hoped her alternate plan had worked instead. “Which one of them would you like me to bring over?”
“Actually, none of them,” he said. “I’m sorry, Melanie. I didn’t expect this. I’m just not seeing the woman for me.”
“Are you sure no one here caught your eye?” she queried.
Devon considered her question. He couldn’t actually say that no one had caught his eye. Someone very definitely had gotten his attention. “Actually, there was someone. But I’m not sure if it’s possible.”
“In love, all things are possible. Who was she?”
“Jazelle Richardson.”
“Interesting. You want to be matched with Jazelle?” she asked, inwardly pleased by his d
ecision.
“Yes, is that a problem?” he asked.
Melanie looked at him, gauging his sincerity. The firm, narrowing glint in his eye told her exactly what she needed to know. He was very sincere. But she knew that when it came to Jazelle, he was going to have his work cut out for him. She was perfect for him, that much was true, but she was also vulnerable and wary. “Tell me what you know about her.”
“She’s an actress. She has blockbuster movies. She had her own TV show when she was a kid, then again in her teens. Her mother was entertainer Yelena Brooks and her father is actor-director and movie mogul Frank Richardson. Her brother died last year. She’s in the tabloids off and on.”
“Is that why you want to be matched with her?”
“No. There’s something about her—she’s intriguing. She’s got a lot of spirit. I like that. She’s quick and smart, and, as my grandfather would say, she’s got moxie.”
“Exactly. And, if you noticed, she isn’t the type of woman you wanted to meet according to your profile. As a matter of fact, she’s the exact opposite. She has her own very successful career. She’s famous and constantly in the public spotlight. And as for demure and quiet—” Melanie shook her head “—well, let’s just say Jazelle has a good head on her shoulders and uses it.”
Devon smiled, remembering their brief conversation. “I realize that, but seeing her tonight sparked something inside of me I hadn’t expected. I’m attracted to her. Not just physically, but something else, something more.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
“Yes, briefly.” He smiled, then chuckled. “She’s got spirit.”
“Yes, she does.”
“The thing is, I remember her so well from when I was a kid. Like every other teenage guy, I had her posters and photos taped to my bedroom wall. I saw every show she ever did.”
“Devon, I’m not running a childhood wish-fulfillment-dating service. She’s not the girl next door anymore. So don’t let the fact that you watched her grow up influence you.”
“I know that. I also know that, so far, none of the women you introduced me to even came close to what I felt when I first saw Jazelle across the room.”
“Jazz is my houseguest. She’s not here as my client.”
“Is she married or engaged?”
“No.”
“Is she seeing someone?”
“No, but she isn’t looking for a relationship at this time.”
“At this time,” he repeated, picking up on her phrasing. “So at one time she was a client?”
“Yes.”
Devon nodded and looked to the patio doors. “What is she looking for?”
Melanie smiled. “Truthfully, she’s looking for serenity.”
“Serenity,” he repeated. Melanie nodded. “Okay, I get it.”
“But first and foremost, she needs a friend. Her heart is damaged from loss and betrayal. She’s in pain, Devon, more than either you or I can even realize. She hides behind a façade. You’ve obviously heard about her brother last year and her mother the year before.” He nodded silently. “She was extremely close to both of them. She’s afraid of getting close to anyone else right now. Bombarding her with what you want will not endear you.”
“I understand.”
“I hope so, because if you truly want her in your life, going full speed ahead isn’t going to do it. She’s struggling to hide her grief, pain and sadness from the rest of the world. She’s vulnerable. Don’t believe everything you think you know about her.”
“So, do I have your blessing?” he asked.
Melanie nodded and smiled. “She’s probably at the old gazebo at the far end of the property.”
“Thank you,” he said quickly.
“Devon, there’s one more thing you should know. Jazz despises athletes.” Devon’s jaw dropped. Melanie nodded.
Devon nodded and headed straight across the room and out the patio doors. He didn’t stop until he reached the path leading to the gazebo entrance. Ever mindful of Melanie’s words, he decided to be even more cautious. He spotted Jazz instantly. Her back was to him as she stared out at the bay. Seeing her sexy silhouette made his body immediately react. He took a deep, calming breath to relax, then noticed that someone else was with her. It was the man who’d been with her earlier. Devon overheard the tail end of their conversation. She was callous and shot him down cold. A few seconds later, the man turned, called her a few choice names under his breath and stomped away.
Devon stepped up onto the gazebo platform. “That was pretty brutal,” he admonished. “He probably practiced talking to you all evening. It takes a lot of courage for a man to walk up to a woman like you and introduce himself.”
Jazz rolled her eyes in the quiet darkness as she shook her head. Another intrusion. She didn’t look up or even turn around this time. She’d been getting clichéd lines all her adult life. Tonight’s party was no exception. For some reason, some men seemed to think that attempting to seduce her was a national pastime. Sometimes she was nice about shooting them down, sometimes not so nice. Right now she didn’t particularly feel like being nice, but she knew she had to curb her tongue. “Not exactly my problem, and for the record, I was being very nice, considering his proposal.”
“That bad, huh?” he said.
“Yeah, you could say that,” she said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I could say I’m sorry because men are insensitive jerks or that we’re cocky, self-absorbed idiots, but you’d only think I was still trying to get into your black-lace panties.”
The phrase was familiar. She turned, seeing Devon leaning against the far post across from her. “You,” she said.
He nodded once. “Me. Or I could say I was sorry that you had to deal with all this drama when all you want to do is just be left alone. But I have a feeling you still wouldn’t really believe me.”
“Probably not,” she said.
“Probably.” He repeated her word, encouraged. “So I guess that means there’s a chance you might just believe me.”
Jazz grimaced and shook her head. “Why don’t you tell me what you want from me?”
“Do I have to want something?”
“Most people do.”
“You’re right, I do want something. I just want to talk.”
“There are about a hundred people in there to talk to. Half are women, and I’m sure they’d be delighted to chat.”
“But they’re not you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“True, but I’d like to.”
“You’re an athlete, right?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t date athletes anymore.”
“Do you talk to them?”
She smiled. “Yes, I guess I do.”
“Good, ’cause that’s all I want—to talk. That’s all.”
Okay, he was certainly different. She’d grant him that. His response definitely wasn’t what she expected. They usually turned and left after she’d coolly dismissed them. He didn’t. “You’re tenacious, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I prefer the term ‘persistent.’” He smiled that smile she knew curled women’s toes. He lowered his head shyly then looked back up at her. “You left the party and I was getting a little lonely inside without you,” he said in quiet sincerity.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“No, don’t doubt it. It’s the truth.”
The fact that he knew she had been staring at him didn’t bother her anymore. “There are plenty of women in there to stare at.”
“True, there are, but then there’d be no point, would there? Devon Hayes,” he said, stepping closer holding his hand out.
“Jazelle Richardson,” she said as they shook.
“It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
“So, Devon Hayes, you’re one of Melanie’s clients, right?”
“Sometimes,” he said cryptically. “Right now it d
epends.”
“It depends on what?” she asked.
“On whether or not you are,” he said, flirting shamelessly. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead said nothing. She smiled and looked away. “Was that too honest?”
“Not at all. It was direct,” Jazz said, then stared at him, wondering what he’d say next. This man, this modern gladiator, was nothing like she expected.
“We got off on the wrong foot earlier. I’d like to make it up to you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is.”
Jazz had to admit his smooth talking, self-assurance and bravado came from a quieter place than she was used to or expected. There was something about him she felt connected to. She glanced behind him, seeing a young woman dressed in red standing on the lit path with her lips pursed and her eyes zeroed in on him. She’d obviously followed him. “Your fan club has arrived.”
Devon turned briefly, seeing the same young woman in red who had plastered herself to his side all evening. Earlier he’d tried to make it clear that he wasn’t interested, but she obviously hadn’t gotten the message. “I assure you, she’s not with me,” he said. “I think one of Melanie’s guests brought his daughter along.”
“And let me guess, you’re babysitting?”
“Not exactly. She wants me. Her words, not mine,” he clarified quickly. “Discouraging her has proved to be difficult at best. I told her I wasn’t interested.”
“I don’t think she got that message.” Jazz leaned back to perch against the gazebo’s rail. She tilted her head, seeing the young woman take a few steps closer, obviously to try and hear what they were saying.
“No, I guess not,” Devon said, walking over to lean back against the post beside her.
“Maybe you should go back inside and talk to her,” Jazz suggested, still hoping to be left alone.
“I’d rather not. It’s obvious that talking isn’t going to work. Some people believe only what they see.”
“I know a few people like that,” she said.
“It’s difficult sometimes,” he confessed truthfully, “not being cruel when you just want to be left alone.”
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