by Regina Hart
Jaclyn studied him like a lab experiment. “But your father knows you love him, and you know he’s proud of you. I’ve seen that each time I’ve had dinner with the two of you.”
“What’s your point?”
“You’re not as certain your mother knew how much you loved and appreciated her.”
DeMarcus marched across the kitchen. He slammed the thick glass into the sink. With his back to her, he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Why do you care why I took the head coaching job?”
“Because I care about you.” Jaclyn’s words eased the tension threatening to snap him in half. “And because I want to know you in and out of bed.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. She waited patiently in the corner of her silver and white kitchen wearing the same suit she’d worn the day she demanded his resignation. Their relationship definitely had taken a one-eighty.
DeMarcus leaned his hips against her sink and crossed his arms. “I thought I’d have time to show them how much I appreciated the sacrifices they’d made so that I could play in the NBA.” He stared at the marbled tile. “I bought them that house in Park Slope, convinced them to retire early so they could travel. I bought them vacation packages to Europe, Africa and the Caribbean.”
“I’m sure they appreciated that.”
“But I should have spent more time with them.” He faced her despite his shame. “When they were exploring Europe, I was playing in the All-Star game. When they were touring Africa, I was training for the Olympics. When they were sailing the Caribbean, I was working on my sports apparel deal.”
“Didn’t they want to see those games?”
“They were at the games. But I was too busy before and after to join them on their trips.”
“I’m sure your parents understood.”
“Mom was disappointed.” He went back to contemplating the tiles. “I’d always intended to come back to Brooklyn after I retired. Twelve, fifteen years tops. Then I’d spend more time with them. Start a family of my own. But I ran out of time. Mom had a heart attack. I was in Miami when she died.”
Jaclyn went to him and took his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
DeMarcus felt her fingers, long and slender, in his grip. “At the funeral, her friends and family were whispering about how much money and time she and Pop had spent on my basketball training. They’d tried to discourage them, but my parents wouldn’t listen. They believed in me.”
“And they were right.” Jaclyn’s tone was fierce. She sounded like she wanted punch the people who’d spoken those hurtful words.
DeMarcus lifted his hand to massage away her frown the way she’d soothed his forehead earlier. “I spent money on my parents instead of spending time with them.”
Jaclyn shook her head. “You weren’t with them every day, but you came home often. There were Mighty Guinn sightings in the paper every time you came back to Brooklyn.”
DeMarcus couldn’t return her smile. Criticism from family and friends during his mother’s funeral still plagued him. “Did she know how much I appreciated their faith in me?”
Jaclyn stepped into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Yes.”
He frowned, wrapping his arms around her. He let her warmth take the edge off his fear. “How do you know?”
“Your father knows how much you appreciate them. Your mother must have known also.” Jaclyn raised her head and met his eyes. “But, if you’re still unsure, ask him.”
“I will.”
Jaclyn wasn’t feeding him platitudes. He saw the concern in her eyes. DeMarcus wasn’t used to women who wanted to get into his head as well as his pants. His former lovers had used his body like a well-muscled sex toy. They’d performed sex instead of making love. Having someone care about what he thought and how he felt was a turn-on—once he got past the initial discomfort.
He buried his hands in the vibrant curls tumbling around Jaclyn’s shoulders. “I’ve never shared that with anyone.” His words were a whisper.
Moved that such a strong man could be so vulnerable, Jaclyn kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear. “You should have.”
Sliding her hands under his jersey, Jaclyn felt the warmth of DeMarcus’s skin against her palms. The muscles in her arms trembled as she lifted the garment over his head.
DeMarcus pulled her into his arms and lowered his head to nuzzle her throat. “You’re the one who wants to get inside a person’s head. I prefer to act.”
Jaclyn caught her breath at the feel of his tongue against her skin. She leaned her head back to give him better access to her neck. “There’s a time and a place for everything.”
He chuckled low, the sound strumming the muscles in her abdomen. “What time is it now?”
Jaclyn stepped out of his arms. Her muscles wept in protest. “It’s time I showed you to my room.”
She turned to lead him back down her hallway to the staircase. Suddenly, her feet were swept out from under her and her body cradled against DeMarcus’s torso.
Jaclyn gasped as DeMarcus mounted the stairs. “What are you—? Put me down before you drop me.”
“Trust me.”
Jaclyn realized she did. Still, she was a tall woman and there were a lot of stairs. “Who do you think you are? Superman?”
His dark gaze touched her heart. “You make me feel that way.”
Jaclyn melted against him. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll start without you.” She inclined her head toward the upstairs hallway. “My room is to the right at the end of the hall.”
DeMarcus crested the staircase, then turned toward her room. His steps never faltered. He crossed the threshold and lowered her beside the bed. He bent his head toward her, and Jaclyn rose on her toes to claim his lips. She shivered as DeMarcus traced his hand down her back, molding her body to every hard, hot inch of his. His arousal pressed against her. Jaclyn moaned into his mouth.
He traced his tongue over her parted lips before sliding deeper into her mouth. Jaclyn dug her fingers into the deep muscles of his shoulders, straining against him. She was restless. She was aching. She was impatient for him.
DeMarcus pulled back and stripped her bare of her suit. Her undergarments and hose disappeared. His nimble athlete’s fingers stroked her bare skin. His breath teased her as he whispered against her ear. “I need to feel you naked against me.”
The image in his words made her pulse for him. His touch set her body on fire.
Jaclyn slipped her hands beneath the waistband of DeMarcus’s athletic pants and drew down both the pants and his underwear. She lowered to her knees in front of his erection. Her fingers traced the hot, smooth flesh over the rigid length of him. In the silence surrounding them, she heard his ragged breathing, felt his tense anticipation and realized she’d cast her own spell over him. It was a heady sensation, having his strength and power react to her slightest touch. Jaclyn dampened with arousal.
She braced her hands against his muscled thighs. Slowly, teasingly, she took him into her mouth. A tremor shook DeMarcus’s body. Jaclyn smiled. With just one lick, she could fall an MVP.
She felt his fingers wrap around her shoulders. Jaclyn caressed his arousal with her tongue, taking him in and out of her mouth. His breathing grew deeper, faster, rougher. His hips pumped in time with her movements. Jaclyn raked her nails lightly down his thighs and felt DeMarcus’s hands tighten on her shoulders.
He pulled her up, hooking her under her arms and tossed her onto her bed. He kicked away from his pants, removed his shoes and socks and loomed over her.
Jaclyn smiled, reveling in her power, drinking in his. She had driven him to this. He was desperate for her. “Had enough?”
“I’m just getting started.”
The heat in DeMarcus’s eyes set fire to her blood. Her nipples tightened in anticipation. DeMarcus lowered onto her. His body heated hers. The fine hairs covering his chest grazed her sensitive nipples. His right leg settled between her thighs.
He took her mouth. His kiss was
hard and rough. Urgent. Demanding. His tongue surged deep inside before pulling back, then pressing into her again. His movements were full and forceful, foreshadowing what was to come.
Jaclyn’s body lifted against him, silently begging for his possession. DeMarcus’s right hand stroked over her bare breast, cupping its fullness, teasing its nipple. Jaclyn’s belly ached. Sexual hunger clawed inside of her, desperate to be fed. His hand traveled lower. The rough pads of his fingers feathered her waist. Lower still, his hands molded her hips before settling between her thighs.
Jaclyn writhed beneath him. “I want you now.”
“Not yet.” DeMarcus slid one finger inside her, seeking her core beyond her damp folds.
Jaclyn’s body shook. She moaned at the intensity of her desire. Her head pressed back into the mattress. Her back arched, lifting her breasts. DeMarcus caught one breast into his mouth and palmed the other. Her body was battered by sensations. The feel of DeMarcus’s tongue laving her pebbled nipple. The rhythm of his hand stroking her core. The movement of his nimble fingers molding her breast. He made her lose her mind.
Jaclyn gasped. “Now, Marc.”
“Not yet.” He slid down her body, touching, kissing and licking every inch of her on the way.
He spread her thighs and kissed her intimately. Jaclyn screamed. Her body levitated off the bed. Blood rushed like rapids through her veins. The sound drowned out her pleas. DeMarcus grasped her hips and pulled her closer. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She panted. Her heart raced. Her body soared and rocked, trembled and twisted before she collapsed back onto the mattress.
DeMarcus’s hand shook as he reached for the condom in the pocket of his discarded athletic pants. He ripped open the packet, covered himself and turned back toward the bed.
He had never been so hard. The sight of Jaclyn naked on her knees loving him with her lips had driven him mad. It had taken everything within him not to plunge himself inside of her to ease his painful desire. He’d focused on her pleasure instead—and made his arousal even stronger.
Jaclyn’s body was languid. A sultry smile curved her lips. She lifted an arm toward him. “I want you so badly.”
Her words shot straight to his erection. DeMarcus climbed onto the mattress and lowered himself to her. Jaclyn parted her legs and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He sighed, kissing her neck, her cheek, nibbling on her ear.
He found her entrance hot and moist. His heart beat hard against his chest. DeMarcus clenched his teeth at the painful pleasure of joining with her. He pressed farther. Jaclyn wrapped her legs around his hips and urged him deeper. He slid all the way in. Jaclyn closed her eyes and moaned.
“You feel so good.” DeMarcus’s muscles trembled.
“So do you.”
DeMarcus moved his hips, seeking Jaclyn’s spot. When she gasped, he knew he’d found it. He moved against her, loving the feel of her heat wrapped around him, her soft smooth skin beneath his hands. He tucked his face beside her neck and breathed in the scent of lilacs and sex.
He loved the way she felt. He loved the way she smelled. He loved her.
DeMarcus stiffened. He looked at Jaclyn. He did love her. She was strong, beautiful, brilliant and sexy as hell. She made him feel invincible—and not just in bed.
Her eyes were closed. Perspiration dampened her skin. He felt the tension in her as her body strained toward completion. DeMarcus slid his hand between them and touched her there. Jaclyn gasped. Her hips pressed against his hand as her body bucked beneath him.
DeMarcus lowered his head and flicked her hardened nipple with his tongue. He moved his hand faster and harder against her. Jaclyn’s inner pulse drew him deeper, forcing him to a faster rhythm. Beneath him, Jaclyn arched, then shattered, pulling him with her over the edge. He gathered her close as his body shook.
Jaclyn’s arms came around him. With slender strength, she squeezed him tight, kissed his ear, then rubbed his back. He was drained. He was sated. He was in love. With his boss.
Here was yet another complication to pile onto their season. And he thought all he’d have to worry about was making it to the play-offs.
15
“You look happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.” Jaclyn studied Albert.
It was the end of January, almost three months since she’d last seen him, when she’d paid him for his Monarchs share. He was seated across from her in the matching armchair in his office at Tipton’s Fashionwear. Her former partner had complemented his pin-striped espresso suit with a thin, emerald green tie. He looked the role of a corporate executive of an exclusive apparel store.
“So do you, Jackie. You have a glow about you. Things are going well with you and Marc?”
“Ver y well. Thank you.” Was she blushing? Hopefully not. “But you obviously made the right decision in leaving the organization.”
“My daughter said the same thing.” Her former partner gave her a rueful smile. “I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been about the franchise.”
Albert was only a year or two older than her father would have been had he lived. Would the pressure of owning a struggling NBA team have affected her parent the same way? She couldn’t answer that. But her grandfather would have fought for the team just as hard if not harder than she was fighting.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Jaclyn sipped coffee from the dainty eggshell china cup Albert had served her. She winced at its bitter taste. Jaclyn leaned forward for the pitcher of skim milk on the serving platter. She poured some into her cup until the coffee rose to its rim.
Albert’s eyes were distant as he frowned across the room. “No one wants to admit that they can’t manage their family’s business. My father helped form the Monarchs. I should have been able to maintain it.”
Jaclyn flinched. Albert had expressed her own fears. “Things have changed since your father and my grandfather founded the organization.”
“I’ve noticed.” He paused, staring into his cup of black coffee. “Still, I was reluctant to dissolve our partnership. I have a feeling my father would have been disappointed.”
Jaclyn’s attention was drawn to the family photos crowding the top of Albert’s file cabinets, bookcases and desk. Her shoulders slumped. She understood his concern over disappointing a parental figure.
She hadn’t realized they had so much in common. Albert had surrendered, but she was still in the game. Who’d made the right choice?
“I understand your decision, Bert. Your children don’t want to manage the franchise, and you’re more interested in the other family business your father started.”
Albert followed her gaze. “I’m proud of my children and glad they’re excited about running Tipton’s Fashionwear.” He gave Jaclyn a considering look. “Frankly, I thought you were going to stay in law.”
“I thought the experience of practicing business law would help me better manage the franchise. So far, it isn’t turning out that way.” Albert’s intense scrutiny made Jaclyn feel like a culture in a petri dish.
The retail executive sipped his coffee. “You’ve given me excellent legal advice in the past.”
“Thank you.”
“Be patient, Jackie. Everything will work out in the end.” He sounded like a fortune-teller who had seen their future.
“How can you be so sure?”
Albert crossed his legs and balanced his coffee cup on its saucer. “You’re a lot like your father, who was just like your grandfather. Stubborn and determined. The Monarchs are a successful franchise because of the force of your grandfather’s personality. They didn’t start losing until he became ill. Once you get your feet under you, you’ll be the same way and the Monarchs will thrive again.”
She wanted him to be right. She needed him to be right. The alternative was that she would fail to protect the legacy her grandfather had entrusted to her. The legacy she wished her father had lived to guide her through. She was the only thread left to hold the franchise intact. She felt lik
e she was fraying.
Jaclyn sipped more coffee. It could use more sweetener. “So, would I be able to will you into selling all of your shares to me?”
Albert’s expression was apologetic. “No.”
“I didn’t think so, which makes me wonder why you agreed to meet with me.”
“I wanted you to understand why your owning the majority shares won’t get you what you want.”
“What do you mean?”
Albert lifted the matching eggshell china pot. “More coffee?”
Jaclyn quelled her impatience. “No, thank you.”
Albert refreshed his cup. “You want to keep the team in Brooklyn.”
Jaclyn leaned back in the floral-patterned armchair. “That’s right.” Where was Albert going with this?
“Then it doesn’t matter whether you have five percent of the team or ninety-five percent. If you can’t renew the arena contract, you’re going to have to move the Monarchs.”
Jaclyn battled back a feeling of hopelessness. “The Gandy brothers are selling the Empire. They want to drop the Monarchs because they don’t think our account will attract potential buyers.”
“I know that. And so does Gerry.”
Jaclyn gripped the teacup. Why did their betrayals continue to surprise her? “Thanks for letting me know.” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on Albert.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“But Gerry told you not to.” When Albert nodded, she continued. “Why is he so determined to destroy the Monarchs?”
“It’s personal.”
“I can tell.”
“He’s holding onto old resentments.”
“Is he still angry that Gene Mannion left his shares of the franchise to my grandfather?” Jaclyn pressed the china cup into its saucer.
“Gerry has a long memory. But it’s more than Mannion’s shares. It also has to do with your mother.”
Jaclyn’s brows knitted. “What about my mother?”
Albert hesitated. Jaclyn bit her lip. If he offered her another cup of his diesel-fueled coffee, she’d scream.