“You’re a God damned liar,” she hissed. She looked like she wanted to slap his face and he had no idea why. She could not possibly have taken this personally. He widened his eyes with surprise, the only thing he had a chance to do before she continued.
“I know what you want.” She narrowed her eyes.
“And what’s that?” Trepidation mixed with his curiosity as he wondered what she’d say.
“You want a life now because you’re scared as hell about what’s going to happen to you when basketball is through with you. Or that’s what you should want if you’re sane. Basketball’s consumed you all these years and now it owns you. You’re rebelling against it now just to prove you have something left to prove. Or to prove you have something left.” She stopped and stared at him intensely.
“And you’re using me,” she added.
He watched her smile as she said the unfriendly words, not knowing exactly how serious she was—and not fully taking in what she said until a few beats after she was finished. Then he decided to find out if it was personal.
“And do you mind?”
“No.” She leaned in and nibbled on his lip. “I haven’t had such fun in a long time. Nor such a worthy adversary.” She pulled back before he was ready for her to go. His first instinct was to take her into his arms and forget this conversation. Or try to. But something stopped him. Something unsettled and raw in the back of his mind.
“I don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”
“Except maybe yourself.”
“But I’m the one at the switch.”
“Then turn yourself off, Mr. Basketball Machine. I want the real Barry to come out and play,” she whispered.
His body responded wholeheartedly. Once again he had the feeling he was being invited to something more than met the eye. The challenge seemed to be more than to beat her at the game. Was she pretending not to care? The disturbing thoughts ran through his mind and almost prevented him from making a move.
But he couldn’t ignore the luscious full lips before him, set in that seductive half pout, half-smile. Neither could he ignore the musky sweet scent of her as he moved his head closer and touched her rich silky hair.
His mind was working even now. He listened to her throaty chuckle and it reminded him all the more of his discomfort. What the hell was it that bothered him? He was about to pull back when she touched him.
The train of his previous thoughts snapped at the touch of her fingers on him. He wound his arms around her and pulled her close so that her breasts pressed against his heartbeat until he could hear only its pounding in his ears. He felt a great release from deep inside like he’d come out of a long, dark exile. He covered her lips with his, sucking and savoring them.
Her touch became intense, insistent until he throbbed with need. He moved one hand down the side of her body over her hips to her thigh. Kneading her lips with his, he pushed her back on the couch. He knew nothing but her beauty, her passion, her sensuality, and his need to possess it.
On top of her, he dragged his lips from hers. “Roxanne,” he whispered, but he wanted to say more. He didn’t know what. She looked back into his eyes with a burning gaze and he saw she was his.
As he pushed himself up to reach for the zipper of her pants, the corner of his eye registered his surroundings. With a jolt he realized they were in a visitors’ lounge in Children’s Mercy Hospital. His hands stopped and he lifted himself away from her nibbling, mind-drugging kisses.
“Shit. We can’t do this here in the hospital. I feel like a pervert.” He sat up and straightened himself out. She sat up too.
“Why don’t we go somewhere?” She half gasped the words, gulping deep breaths as if she’d been under water.
“We’ll go to my house.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Of course. You’d do it right here, wouldn’t you? Just for the thrill of maybe getting caught?”
She laughed at his suggestion. “Is that a dare?”
“Don’t get any ideas. I have no wish to be embarrassed.”
“Conceding another victory?” She wore a triumphant smile.
“Do you always play games? Is it ever for real?” Barry surprised himself with the question. He realized it was against the rules when he saw the surprise flash in her eyes. And then he wished he’d never opened his mouth. She made him talk too much.
“No. Never.” She still smiled, but it looked put on. He was relieved at her answer and at the same time, bothered. But that was only because he wanted some control.
“Let’s go.” Before I ask any more stupid questions.
Standing was uncomfortable he found, as his jeans strained at the crotch.
“Problem?” she asked.
“Don’t be so haughty or I’ll give you a problem, missy.”
“Oh yeah?” She dared. He looked around the empty, antiseptic room and saw the clock at past one a.m.
“Yeah.” He looked her over without showing his intent. Then he grabbed her to him and pressed her length against his with his lips molded to hers. His hands held her peach-like bottom hard against his erection. God, she felt good. He slipped his mouth from hers and buried his face in her hair, gritting his teeth against the sudden surge of his pulse. He had to maintain control.
Pushing her back against a wall, he began an assault on her neck with his mouth, sucking and breathing in her exciting scent, and moved his hands under her skirt to pull down her panties. He kept her pinned with his weight and stroked the length of her slowly. He was rewarded with the sound of her raspy breathing.
“Barry…you play so well.” She spoke with a strained voice as she tried to touch him. But he didn’t let her. He wanted her to beg this time. He would not be so easy.
He slipped his fingers inside her panties and she clenched the hair at the nape of his neck. It was his turn to chuckle. But he didn’t stop the stroke of his fingers. He took her chin in his other hand so he could see her face as he moved the pad of his forefinger to drive her to the brink. Watching her face, seeing her lose control, he knew where to go, what to do. She winced. She tried to pull away. But then finally when she had given in with abandon, pushing against him, he stopped.
“No…. don’t…” Her eyes widened. “Don’t stop…” There was no smile on her face. She looked almost as if she were in pain instead. He could see that she didn’t care that she’d lost the game of control right now. But he would remind her later.
He pulled back from her and gave her his game face. “I told you. We’re going to my house.” He turned from her. He was far from cool and not completely detached from her pain. She said nothing, but took his hand and followed him out.
The alarm sounded and Roxanne shut it off for the third time, turning over in bed. Opening her eyes, she noticed the light of the early morning shining through the blinds. She turned back to the clock. Almost seven a.m. She sat upright as Barry stirred next to her. He would kill her when he found out she had shut the alarm off. She hastily got out of bed, retrieving her clothes from the floor, and began dressing.
Managing to sneak out of the room without waking Barry, she carried her shoes and turned to go downstairs to make coffee. She’d wake him from a safe distance.
Promptly after coffee and a quick shower, Roxanne left with Barry heading for Boston for the Celtics matinee game at the Garden. They hadn’t spoken much, which she didn’t mind at first. But now the silence made her anxious and jumpy, as if she’d drunk ten cups of coffee instead of one. They were late.
But now on the highway with barely any traffic, Barry flipped on the cruise control and seemed to relax his intense hold on the wheel. Roxanne watched his face. He stared straight ahead at the road so she couldn’t tell if he was angry. But hell, there was nothing to be angry about. He’d get to the game in time. She decided to take a conversational gamble.
“Would you like to discuss the contract and the rest of your promotional obligations?” She forced a bright smile as she held her bre
ath. He shook his head.
“Don’t worry, Barry. You’ll be able to handle it. I’ll help you.” She meant to reassure him.
“I don’t want to handle it. I can get you the money. Somewhere. Fuck. Forget about it.” He flicked a cold glance in her direction and returned his eyes to the road. The intensity returned to his driving. She felt the corners of her mouth drop and decided it was time to do it. She let out a long, deep sigh.
“We’ll have to discuss it some time, you know.” The gentleness in her voice surprised them both. “I expect we’ll have to do a lot more than discuss things.” He kept his eyes on the road.
“Would you rather work with someone else on this project? Maybe Laura?” She said it without thinking. It was a rash suggestion. What was she so suddenly concerned about?
“Why would I want to do that? Would you rather I worked with someone else? Afraid it might interfere with the game?” His voice mocked her.
“The game? This isn’t about games.” She thought of Lindy and the other kids at the hospital last night and marveled at how he could remain so unaffected. To hell with her composure, her poise, her cool control—to hell with the game.
“No?” mocking surprise seared his voice. He got his teeth into her sudden vulnerability and now he was going to shake her up a bit, she could see. Was she going to sit there and let him?
A new, pulsating surge spread inside her. It wasn’t something she could identify. There was no fight in it, but neither was there any shame. She had to go with it. She had to continue to show her vulnerability.
“Maybe games are overrated. Maybe it’s real life that holds all the best fun. Want to try it?” She looked at him, waiting for his response. She didn’t have a clue what it would be, but whatever it was would drive the life force running through her to the brink one way or another. She prepared herself to go around the next wild bend in this new, untried roller coaster of feelings, anxiously expecting the unexpected.
He steered the car ruthlessly toward the side of the road and pulled up, shoved the car into neutral, and turned to her. Her heart hammered.
He had his game face in place. Roxanne felt the sudden drop of the roller coaster into the pit of her stomach and it was exhilarating and sickening at the same time.
“Am I supposed to believe that you suddenly want to stop playing games and be real?” His eyes betrayed nothing of what he felt, besides mistrust. Roxanne gave up her chance to get off the ride now and jumped in again for another turn around a dangerous bend.
“Yes. I am real. I’m not a machine like you pretend to be.” She bit her lower lip, preparing herself for another big dip before letting herself go completely. “Maybe I even have feelings. For you.”
His mocking laugh rewarded her with a spine-tingling plunge into emotional depths she hadn’t seen since childhood. And this time she couldn’t stay. Even Don’s death had not left her with this feeling of despair. She had to get herself out or she’d drown. She had to fight.
Tears fell to her cheek before her fight took over. She turned her head suddenly, seeing the look of disbelief on his face. She fiercely wiped at the stinging drops.
Too late. He took her head and turned it and held her face in both hands, forcing her to look him in the eye. But this time she was ready for him. The resolve of fighting mischief and self-mocking humor would be there in her eyes to greet him.
But he hadn’t been ready. She looked in his eyes to see his game face had deserted him and with shocking clarity she saw his fear, his pride, his loneliness, all at once. The force of it almost knocked away her resolve to fight. But before she would have let go again, he registered her countenance and she could almost feel his sense of regret, as his game face slipped back into place.
“Of course you have feelings. Just like me. Somewhere in there, but strictly off-limits.” His sardonic smile came into place and he kissed her. Softly. Her resolve melted again, a little. She let the hot intimate feel of his mouth on hers take her over—really take her. She wound her fingers up through his hair, for herself, not for effect.
She knew it would all feel the same to him in the end.
“I swear if I’m late for this game I’ll have to put you off-limits.” Barry pushed himself back from her and looked at her eyes closely. It hadn’t been his imagination. Tears still stained her cheek. He reached his hand up and gently rubbed the wetness away with his thumb.
The self-possessed smile was immediately wiped from her face and she turned from him.
“Don’t pay attention to me. It’s the holidays. They always get to me and…” She stopped, seemingly unsure, looking out the window.
He couldn’t afford for her to keep talking. He’d been a fool to goad her about the game. He needed it just as much as she did. There was no sense trying for a real relationship. Was it becoming dangerous to continue seeing Roxanne Monet?
“And what?” What the hell did he ask for? He didn’t care. He turned the ignition back on. He had to get the hell out of there.
“And this investigation into Don’s death.” She turned back to him, composed but frowning.
“I thought Al had control of that situation? He told me himself your session with the police went well.” This was a safe topic at least.
“It did. But my mother-in-law and her private detective have some information that might be swaying the police otherwise.”
He raised his brow. Maybe not so safe. “Let me guess. You’re back at number one in the standings for murder suspects?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Pretty absurd. I wish Al wasn’t always so worried about it. The stories in the papers are bad enough. He gets me scared sometimes the way he talks.”
“I thought you had an alibi.”
“Ironclad.”
“So what’s the deal?”
“Can’t find him.”
“Minor detail, eh?”
“He’ll come out…”
“Who is he? A married man?” He asked half-mockingly and held his breath waiting for her answer.
“No and never mind. Forget I ever brought it up.”
“Great. If we keep it up, everything will be off-limits for discussion.”
“Suits me fine.”
“You’re right. No sense in complicating the game. From now on when we meet, it’s strictly sex and the game.” He thought of Lindy and he wasn’t sure why. Roxanne was good for her. He didn’t want to ruin that. He had to think everything with Lindy would work out okay. Or not think of it at all.
“Which game do you mean? The game of who seduces who, or the game of who can make the other forget to pretend we’re just playing games?”
“Don’t start that again.” He was startled by her frankness but didn’t allow his voice to betray him. Then he pushed himself ruthlessly into game mode and recognized her expert play.
She laughed. “Why? Are you worried?” She felt an edge that hadn’t been there before. Perching herself on that edge of the emotional precipice was turning out to be an irresistible urge when it came to Barry Dennis. He said nothing for a moment.
She thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“I suppose I should be worried. But I’m not. You have as much to lose as I do,” Barry said.
“What makes you think I haven’t already lost it?” She tried to keep calm, but her heart hammered. Her nerves tightened to a pitch that made them jump of their own volition. She watched him lick his lips as he pretended to concentrate on the road. His grip on the wheel seemed unsteady. She felt too giddy—too reckless—to keep her poise.
He flashed her a dangerous, dagger-like stare. She maintained her reckless abandon. His jaw clenched tight.
“It doesn’t matter if you’ve lost it. Not really. As long as the pretense continues. That’s what the game is all about isn’t it? You pretend you don’t care.”
She felt the shot slice through her. She choked, “You’re asking me? Maybe I’ve been playing the game so long, pretending is real to me now.” Her voic
e sounded strangled to her own ears. Her poise was gone.
“Yeah. I’m not so sure of you and your game. Maybe I ought to stick to basketball.”
“You’re conceding?” He couldn’t. He had to keep playing with her. She couldn’t let the game end. She had no other way to relate with him.
Unless she counted Lindy. But he was even more difficult and closed where his daughter was concerned.
“Is that the only way to end this game?” He looked at her and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind his mask of indifference.
“Afraid so.” She held her breath.
“I can’t do that. I only play to win.’
“You’ve said that before. But you’re falling behind.”
“Oh? I don’t think so.” He gave her a confident look and all of a sudden she felt as if he saw everything. He saw past the pretense. She looked away, feeling naked. She forced herself into composure, counting on her sense of cool to take control. How was it possible to keep herself wrapped so tightly and still appear to be a lively, vibrant person? How could her emotions control her, her impulses impossible to ignore on every front of her life—except this one? She couldn’t relate emotionally with men.
No more of this—not today. She remained silent, reaching forward to turn on the radio. He didn’t stop her. He could have pounced and won the game right then and there. She was convinced that he knew she was vulnerable. But he left her alone. She pondered the possibility that maybe he wasn’t so far ahead of her in the score.
Chapter 16
Playing the Game Page 25